A Season For Slaughter Part 59

Chapter 75.

Shreiber "Reliable information lets you say, don't know,' with real confidence."

-SOLOMON SHORT.

The pain was a steady presence, but it had lost its power to hurt. The PKDs were potent, if nothing else. But they only dulled the physical pains; they didn't dull the emotions. They didn't stop the feelings from flowing. That still hurt.

I couldn't do anything but lie on my cot and think. Uncomfortable thoughts grabbed hold of my chest and squeezed so hard I couldn't breathe. What if she was dead? That one pressed down onto me like the weight of the universe. How could I go on without her? What would I do? Where would I go? I thought about dying. But I'd already promised her that I wouldn't kill myself The idea terrified me, that I would have to go through life alone, never having anyone again to share with or laugh with or simply hold on to in the middle of the dark cold night when all the demons of the mind came prowling around the edges of the bed. I would never again know the taste of her lips, the dance of ecstasy of her body against mine. I lay there on the cot, wanting her more than anything-the one person I needed most in the world to be with was the one person I couldn't have.

Just let me know that she's alive somewhere, I prayed. But no one answered. I thought about the smell of her hair, the soft noises she made in the back of her throat when she was comforting me. I thought about the way she made me feel, and the ache grew louder and louder inside of me. I was plunging headlong into my worst nightmare. I could see my life laid out before me. Empty. Already, I was a dying sh.e.l.l. The sunlight ebbed away as I grew old alone, unloved, forgotten-until finally, eventually, I shriveled up and blew away in the wind, an empty dried-up husk of memory.

If I could just reach backward, quickly, for just a moment, somehow stop time, somehow change it-but the memories were a closing window, rapidly receding into the distance. The present, and all the futures hiding behind it, slammed into me like a mad hallucination.

I cried in my cot. I lay on my back, and the tears ran out of my eyes and into my ears. I choked on my own sobs. n.o.body came. n.o.body cared. I had never felt so helpless or trapped in my entire life-because I was finally, completely trapped inside the circ.u.mstances of my life, and this time I couldn't get out. This time, it was for real. The dust would sweep across the bones of the world. I would wander in rags.

It was over and done. Lizard was dead and I was alone.

I hurt so badly. And no one and nothing could help.

What hurt the most was the frustration; the not being able to get up and do something. Anything. At least let me be a part of it! Something was going on and n.o.body was telling me. I could hear it in the distance. Shouts, purple noises, prowler sounds, occasional explosions, and only once the sound of a chopper and then the m.u.f.fled roar of a torch.

The more I lay there, flat on my blistered back, the more frustrated I got; the more frustrated I got, the less I wanted to stay still. By the time they came to take away Benson's body, I was crazed. I grabbed at their arms. "What's going on? Where's Lopez? Has Lizard been found? When are the choppers coming? Let me help. Get me a phone. Get me a remote. I can run a prowler from here. Let me do something-"

Finally, I got so frantic that someone called Dr. Shreiber in to see me. She had a spray-injector in her hand.

"Where's Dr. Meier?" I demanded, trying to sit up. Shreiber pushed me back down.

"She's not available-"

"What do you mean? What's going on?"

She let out her breath in exhaustion. "Look, I'm sorry. Everything's falling apart.

There's a big nest of shamblers somewhere nearby. The tenants keep swarming. The choppers can't get in. Two of them are already down. They're not going to try any more landings until we find the nest and burn it. We've got the prowlers out searching now. And if that isn't enough, we're attracting worms."

"Where's Lopez?"

"I don't know. The worms overran part of the camp. There're a lot of people still unaccounted for."

"Who's running the SLAM team?"

"What SLAM team? They're all dead. Or missing."

"Jesus Christ-!" This time I didn't let her push me back down. I propped myself up on my elbows. "Who's in charge? What are we doing about defenses?"

"Dwan Grodin is channeling for General Wainright. The surviving crew of the Bosch are manning the defenses. Dannenfelser is running the prowlers by remote."

"Oh, G.o.d-this is a f.u.c.king disaster! You've gotta let me up. Find some way to make me mobile. I can help!"

"You're not in the chain of command anymore. You're a patient. Now, shut up and be a patient-"

"Look, Marietta," I said, trying to keep my voice calm. "I know we've had our differences, but-please, you have to understand, Wainright's an idiot, and Dwan-well, you saw, you know. I mean, she's a sweet kid, but she can't handle stress. We need someone on-site with combat experience. I'm the only one left-"

Dr. Marietta Shreiber held up the spray-injector meaningfully. She held it in front of my eyes until I stopped -talking. "Shut up," she explained. "I don't have time for this. Neither does anybody else. I'm going to give you a choice. Either you shut up and stay shut up, or I'm going to put you on sedation until we get you out of here."

She lowered the injector. "I'd prefer to save the drugs," she said. "You're not the only one who's injured-"

"No," I said, a little too quickly. "I don't like drugs. They make the voices in my head mumble. If I'm going to be crazy, at least I'd like to know how crazy I am."

Dr. Shreiber didn't smile. "You're not funny, McCarthy. You're a G.o.dd.a.m.n nuisance." She had me. She knew it. And I didn't dare fight back. "You're the most unprofessional person I've ever met. You're a spoiled brat. You use your connections to steamroller people. You get them disgraced, embarra.s.sed, jailed, shafted, and sometimes killed. I don't like you. I don't like what you do. And I don't like the way you do it. And I wouldn't lift a finger to help you right now if the President of the United States personally ordered me to."

There were a whole lot of things I would have liked to have said in answer to that.

Instead, I held my silence. Dr. Shreiber still held the spray-injector.

"I'll be good," I promised. "Please don't drug me."

She didn't believe me, but she put the hypo away. "I'm not going to baby-sit you.

And I'm not going to let anyone else waste their time either. You only get one warning. Next time, someone is just going to come along and jab you. And we'll keep jabbing you until we can get you out of here. Understand?"

"No more trouble. I promise."

She still didn't believe me. She was right to doubt. "May I have a phone?" I asked.

She hesitated. She was obviously thinking about what kinds of problems I could create if I got on-line to Houston. Or anywhere.

"I promise you, I won't do anything to hinder anybody's work."

"I don't want you going over my head."

"That's not my style," I said. "I play by the rules."

Dr. Shreiber snorted. "Sorry. I don't trust you enough." She bent and exited the tent, leaving me to wonder how long we had to live. I doubted we'd make it to the end of the day.

The tunnels of the mandala are not simply dirt-fined shafts leading down to various storage chambers, reservoirs, and nesting areas; they are in fact, the bones, the marrow, and the skeleton of a complete living organism.

The tunnels are completely lined with plantbased organisms, fleshy tissue-like constructions that maintain temperature, humidity, and even in some cases, atmospheric pressure. Other structures, thick pipe-like vines that cling to the walls and ceilings, mirror the activities of nerves, arteries, and intestines.

These living cables contain sophisticated organic pumps to carry fluids, nutrients, and even simple sensory information to all parts of the colony. Other channels function to remove wastes, filtering them, recycling liquids, and delivering them for reuse to other parts of the nest.

-The Red Book, (Release 22.19A)

Chapter 76.

Shaun "If it's not your bedroom, it's not your affair."

-SOLOMON SHORT I had plenty of time to appreciate the irony of the situation. I had been detached from my commission, my team, my wife, my weapons, my communications, and finally, even my mobility. One piece at a time, I had been reduced to this totally dependent thing. I hated it.

Even worse, I had promised one of the people I most despised in the world that I would cooperate with my fate. I wondered what Foreman would do in this situation and wished I had a gun. I sipped at the canteen; peed a little, chewed a P-ration, and listened to the noises of the hot wet jungle all around us. The day was dark and getting darker.

I thought about praying, but... that seemed a futile exercise. It had worked once before, when I was caught in a pink storm with Duke; but now-the image of Wild Willie Ayc.o.c.k stood between me and G.o.d. And besides, G.o.d was in h.e.l.l, so why bother praying? What I really wanted was a telephone-and that was the one thing I was least likely to get.

I was wondering what it would feel like to just give up, when Shaun stuck his head in through the flap. "How're you feeling, gorgeous?"

"I'm feeling anything but gorgeous."

"Brought you a present," he said. He looked behind himself and then quickly slipped into the tent. He was holding something behind his back. "But it'll cost you."

"What?"

"One kiss."

"Shaun-" I said tiredly.

"You really want this present," he grinned.

"You never give up, do you?"

He shrugged happily. "Nope, I guess not." He held up his present. A phone. "It's my own," he said. "But it's got a direct connection to the worldnet, so maybe-"

"How did you know that I wanted a phone?"

"Dr. Shreiber gave orders that you weren't to be allowed near any communications gear."

"You're violating her order? You're going to get in trouble."

"I don't work for Dr. Shreiber. My job is to serve the mission. If you need a phone, it must be for something important."

"It is. I'm going to try to save Lizard's life." Shaun's expression went terribly sad.

"What aren't you telling me?"

The words poured out painfully. "They found the last box of computer logs she was carrying, the ones she was supposed to take in the chopper, they were in the worst-crunched part of the lounge. They found her phone, too."

"But-?" I wasn't ready to give up hope.

"They didn't find her. They couldn't get in any farther. I'm sorry, Jim." He didn't want to say it. "But they've stopped searching. They don't have enough people anymore. And almost everybody is accounted for."

"Whose orders?"

Hesitation. "Dr. Shreiber."

"It figures." And then, I realized. "Where's Captain Harbaugh?"

"She was injured in the crash. She's in a coma." Shaun's lower lip trembled. He looked like he was about to cry. "They don't know if she's going to make it."

"She'll make it," I said. "She's a strong lady." Shaun nodded hopefully.

He put his phone into my hand. Then he stepped even closer and lowered his voice to a soft whisper. "You don't have to kiss me if you don't want to," he said. "I was just joking-"

"Not true. You were hoping." He looked embarra.s.sed. "Come here," I said.

"Huh?"

"You heard me."

He knelt beside my cot. I levered myself up on one elbow so I could put my face close to his. I reached over and stroked his hair.

He really was a sweet-looking boy. I wet my lips and closed my eyes.

Nothing happened.

I opened my eyes. Shaun was looking at me oddly. His eyes were shiny with tears.

"What is it?" I asked.

"You really do love her, don't you?"

"More than anyone in the whole world," I said.

He nodded. "I wish I had someone who loved me like that." The sadness and longing in his voice were heartbreaking. He started to get up.

"Hold it," I said. "Where's my kiss?"

"You don't have to-"

"A deal's a deal." I reached for his hand and pulled him back. At first, he hesitated, but I refused to let go of his hand. At last, he realized he wasn't going to be allowed to leave the tent without completing the transaction. His expression was uncertain, but he knelt close and put his face near mine again. I stretched over and kissed him gently on the lips. I let myself linger over the moment. He tasted as sweet as he looked. Finally, he broke away. He looked at me in surprise and delight and wonderment. "Wow..." he whispered. "How do you do that?"

"You're asking me? I thought you were the expert."

He shook his head. "So did I-"

"It's no secret," I said. "I just kissed you like you were the most important person in the world to me, because while I was kissing you, you were."

"Wow," he said again. "That's a new one to me. I gotta remember that." He knelt down and kissed me again, this time just a quick friendly peck on the lips, but I could tell he was already practicing. "Keep the phone hidden. I'll be back later." And then he was gone.

Most amazing, a living nest is a continual symphony of organic sound: noisy, enthusiastic, intricate, and indescribable. The entire nest pulses with clangorous, uproarious life. It is as if every single living thing within the Chtorran mandala has a voice and is determined to use it, expressing itself across the full range of its emotional terrain.

The walls of the tunnels throb with slow heart-like beats. Deep and regular booming vibrations can be felt thrumming through the ground. Bubbling and belching noises, like the sounds of a vast stomach ruminatively rumbling, come echoing up the shafts from the bottommost depths of the colony.