Monstrous

  “One that . . .” Interpreter searched for the word. “One that scares them.”

  And suddenly Doc Martin couldn’t help but smile. “Sidney. Sidney scares you . . . scares them?”

  His head moved from one side to the other.

  “Sidney,” he repeated, letting the name dance upon his tongue. “Sidney . . . Moore.”

  “That’s her,” Doc Martin said proudly, but at the same time feeling a tinge of unease. She’d always felt a certain amount of affection for the girl, imagining that it was something akin to how a mother feels for her daughter, even though she’d never had children.

  “What happened . . . was a fluke,” Interpreter explained. “Somehow this human woman . . . this Sidney Moore and the device became conjoined.”

  “Conjoined,” Doc Martin repeated.

  “The two became as one,” Interpreter said. “On all the worlds that have fallen to us . . . nothing like that has ever occurred before.”

  “She’s a threat to you then . . . to your plans.”

  Interpreter paused, again looking at the loathsome creatures around the base of the antenna. “She could ruin . . . everything.”

  Doc Martin’s thoughts raced. Was this supposed representative of an alien race admitting to a weakness in their plans? Why would he be telling her that? Was it a trap to throw them off guard . . . to give them false hope?

  She had to ask. “Why are you telling me this? Is this some sort of sick game your kind plays? Build up our hopes, and then—surprise, surprise—there isn’t a chance at all.”

  Interpreter said nothing.

  “Why are you telling me this?” Doc Martin nearly screamed her question.

  Again Interpreter remained silent, and her frustration became like a lit match dropped into a bucket of gasoline. She stormed over to a pile of construction trash beside the maintenance shack, hefted a length of metal pipe. She caught movement beyond the cliff area, the living mass of controlled life slowly emerging from the underbrush. But it didn’t stop her.

  “You’re not going to tell me your game?” she asked as she strode back toward the antenna. “Is that it? Let the inferior life-forms figure it out on their own?”

  She loomed over the first of the jellyfish-like creatures at the base of the tower, its pale body puffing up and then deflating like a lung outside the body. Watching the expression on Isaac’s face, she raised her pipe and drove it down into the creature’s body. The thing screamed on some psychic level, and her head felt as though it was about to split, but that did not prevent her from bringing her makeshift spear up and down again on the second alien.

  The wave surged out from the underbrush, a serpent of living things coming at her like a runaway freight train. Doc Martin stood above the next of the throbbing sacks of alien life, spear poised to fall as the serpent of living things reached her.

  And stopped.

  The serpent stopped, swaying before her.

  An act that told her everything.

  She brought the end of the pipe down into the gelatinous body of the third organism, and when she was done, the once pulsating bodies looked like deflated balloons days after a parade.

  Her anger spent, and suddenly exhausted, Doc Martin leaned on her pipe. “So,” she said, looking directly at Interpreter. “Are you going to help us defeat your kind?”

  Interpreter just stared.

  “Or am I reading this all wrong?”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

  It was all a dream . . . a nightmare.

  But she knew that she could die there.

  Her father’s hands wrapped tightly around her throat.

  She fought him, a part of her not wanting to hurt the man that she loved, but a realization dawned on her, triggering her will to survive.

  That man was gone. Dead. And the forces that were now inside her mind attempting to kill her were responsible.

  A surge of anger gave her what she needed.

  Stepping closer to this dream version of her dad, Sidney pulled back her fist and drove it into the face of the imposter. She felt his fingers loosen, allowing her the opportunity to slip from his grasp.

  “You’re not who you’re supposed to be,” she said angrily, attacking the man. “That man is gone,” she said. “That man is gone because of you!”

  She punched his face again, and she felt the skin, and bone beneath, give way with a sickening crack. The nightmare version of her father tried to swat her away, but her anger was like a burning fire, driving her at the man, fists flailing.

  Just the idea of this . . . thing . . . wearing her father’s face and trying to hurt her? It made her mad enough to kill.

  Her fists continued to land upon the figure’s face, and she saw the damage that she was doing. The skin was breaking away like pieces of shattered plastic, revealing something wet and pulsating beneath.

  Something that resembled the damp and clammy skin of one of the monsters that controlled the animals. Sidney drove the thing backward; it tripped over one of the kitchen chairs and fell to the floor. The body shattered like glass, the loathsome organism hidden inside shucking off its costume and crawling beneath the table to escape her fury.

  “That’s it,” she sneered, fists still clenched. “You better run.”

  Sidney followed its course beneath the table, ready to pounce if the opportunity presented itself.

  The monster slithered out from beneath the table, leaping up from the floor to attach itself to the sliding door, where the even larger organism waited.

  She was rushing over to tear the filthy beast from the sliding door when the glass started to crack, sounding like multiple snaps of tiny whips.

  And then it was over, the glass doors exploding inward in a flood of pale flesh and writhing tentacles. Sidney tried to get out of the way, to dive across the kitchen, but the reality of the room itself was crumbling away as well.

  The kitchen was breaking apart, the pieces dissolving like smoke, only to reveal a world of total darkness beneath.

  Total black.

  At the corner of the room she paused, fearing the dark and what it might hold, only to be swept up from behind, the cold, clammy mass of the alien organism enveloping her body.

  Swallowing her whole.

  They had her.

  They . . . the mysterious beings that were in the process of invading her world.

  Sidney fought to break free but remained a prisoner of the flesh.

  They were inside her mind—she could feel them rummaging around looking for something.

  But what?

  The pain made her cry out. They were far from gentle as they peeled back layers of her gray matter, poking roughly between the folds of her brain.

  Something within her brain reacted.

  Sidney felt it, a now-familiar sensation. Only this time it felt stronger.

  It was like discovering a whole new muscle, and she flexed it.

  And suddenly they were gone from her, receding back into the darkness.

  Sidney could just about make out their presence, just beyond the veil of flesh and shadow. They seemed . . . bothered that she could look in their direction.

  “I see you there,” she said to them, finding that she was smiling with their discomfort.

  The new muscle, she suddenly realized, this was what they had been interested in.

  What scared them.

  She flexed the new mental muscle, feeling it getting stronger each time she tried. “Is this what you’re afraid of?”

  She could actually feel their discomfort . . . their displeasure . . . their anger.

  She could see their thoughts.

  Sidney had been inside the minds of the invaders before—a jumbled mass of random thought and imagery.

  But now it was different. Now she could truly see . . .

  And understand.

  They attempted to sever their hold on her, but Sidney held fast, seeing their plan.

  The next phase was about to begin.

  The re
alization of what she was seeing . . . hearing . . . distracted her enough that they managed to repel her, to drive her back.

  Sidney tried to hold on, to take from them anything that might prove useful in humanity’s struggle against the invaders, but they broke her grip—her psychic link—and sent her back.

  Back to her flesh.

  Back to the beginning of the next phase, and what could very well be the end of humanity.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

  The younger woman had started to convulse.

  Delilah held on to her as her body quaked and bucked, blood dribbling down from her nostrils.

  It would be so easy to just leave . . . to allow the white dog to continue to protect her as Delilah ran away as fast as she could.

  She gazed down at the young woman’s pale face and wiped the trickles of blood from beneath her nose.

  She just couldn’t do that. This woman had saved her somehow.

  The dog was truly menacing in her protection, darting forward to savage anything that dared get within a certain radius of them—rats and even the human-shaped monsters.

  But just beyond where the dog stalked back and forth like a jungle cat in its cage, Delilah could see a gathering of nightmares.

  It won’t be long now, she thought, watching the line of horrors forming before them.

  And that was when she did the unthinkable.

  Delilah gently laid the younger woman on the ground and stood beside the dog.

  The shepherd glanced at her, and Delilah could have sworn something passed between them, something along the lines of We’re probably going to die in the next few minutes; might as well go down fighting side by side.

  The gathering of beasts and monstrosities continued to watch them.

  “What are you waiting for?” Delilah mumbled beneath her breath as the dog barked her challenge. Delilah reached down and grabbed up a handful of loose rock and dirt, flinging it as hard as she could at them.

  But still they waited.

  For what?

  The young woman on the ground behind Delilah began to cough, and Delilah turned to see her rolling onto her side, moaning as she fought to return to consciousness.

  It was then that the monsters made their move.

  Delilah was ready, throwing punches and kicking wildly as she and the dog were slowly driven back by the horrific flow of attack.

  The explosion of fire up ahead of them was practically blinding in the poor lighting of the tunnel. Instinctively Delilah threw up her hands to shield her eyes. She could smell the heavy aroma of gasoline, the glow of the still-burning fire in the distance filtering between her fingers.

  And then she heard the sound of gunfire.

  In the part of the city where she’d grown up it wasn’t an uncommon thing to hear gunshots, especially on a Friday or Saturday night, so there was no mistaking what she was hearing.

  She lowered her hands as four figures entered the tunnel.

  For a moment she thought she was saved.

  For a moment.

  * * *

  The organism sensed the danger and began to vibrate with purpose, the quills upon its undulating mass extending to broadcast its newest message—its newest signal.

  It had a purpose, and that purpose must be fulfilled.

  Crackling sparks of bioelectricity leaped from the thick black hairs into the air.

  Phase two was beginning.

  * * *

  Cody swung the sledgehammer into the side of a monster’s head.

  The thing went down to the ground in a twitching heap, and all he could do was stare. He was reminded of the animals that had been in the cave on Benediction, the things that had emerged from the cocoons.

  This was so much worse. He was certain that at one time it had been human.

  But there wasn’t any time for horror, or fear or disgust; they were here for a reason—to find Sidney—and that’s all that he would focus on.

  The sledgehammer seemed to be increasing in weight; every time it was raised, every time that it smashed a skull or crushed a swarm of rats and cockroaches, it seemed to become heavier.

  And he wasn’t sure how much longer he could do this.

  How much longer he could fight.

  * * *

  There was something happening in the tunnel, something that wasn’t the least bit good.

  Rich was reminded of what had happened on the island—in the caves of Benediction—he had been amazed and grateful that he had survived the night, and here he was again.

  Fighting to survive against overwhelming odds, fighting for everything that mattered to him.

  And as he swung the heavy metal plumber’s wrench, keeping his attackers at bay, he saw in the eerie light of the burning gasoline that things were likely far worse than he cared to believe.

  Not only was he fighting for his own survival and all that mattered personally to him . . .

  He might have been fighting for the sake of the world.

  * * *

  Sayid was mesmerized by the sight of it.

  The alien organism was huge, pulsating with a horrible, malignant life as it lay there surrounded by the translucent cocoonlike pods. He could see inside them, new life squirming with activity.

  New life that would be used to usurp the old.

  He couldn’t allow this to happen. For the sake of his daughter, for the sake of the planet itself, he had to do everything to see it stopped.

  But would it be enough?

  He aimed his gun, firing his last shots into the pulsating mass of alien flesh.

  He hoped to God it would be.

  * * *

  Langridge had gone into combat mode. It had been years since she’d fought in a war, and she’d assumed this way of thinking was behind her, but here it was again.

  Practically saying Did you miss me? as the civilized part of her slipped quietly to the recesses of her consciousness, and a side fueled by survival and the hunger for violence took control.

  This place . . . this tunnel was a place of absolute evil—she felt it in her bones. And it had to be cleaned out.

  Cleansed of the bad.

  Purified with fire, she thought as she poured more gasoline.

  Before it was too late.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT

  Sidney awoke to war.

  The choking stink of fire and gasoline in her lungs.

  She looked about, saw what was happening, but knew that the real danger had yet to happen. They were all dangling from the precipice by a fingernail.

  About to fall to their dooms.

  She found herself moving, the woman that she had saved in the tunnel watching her with an expression of shock. Snowy was there too—beautiful, lovely, loyal Snowy—she was barking at her, trying to get her attention, but she couldn’t spare the moment. Not yet.

  Sidney wanted to cry at the sight of her friends, covered with blood and gore, fighting for their lives.

  Her friends. Her family. They had followed her. Come for her.

  They did not see her there, too busy keeping themselves alive. Sidney planted her feet and reached out again to the newest muscle inside her brain, making it move and flex.

  Taking control of the things that threatened her family.

  The monsters stopped . . . the animals as well. It was as if time had frozen.

  Wouldn’t that have been a useful talent, especially right now, she thought, holding the minds of the multitude of creatures in place.

  Especially now when . . .

  Her friends saw her, calling out her name, but it was happening then . . . the thing that they were planning.

  Sidney ignored their calls, turning and heading toward the shapeless organism nestled in the gravel. An organism that sensed her approach and, through an awful tickling sensation that she experienced at the base of her brain stem, informed her that there was nothing that she could do.

  That her efforts were for naught.

  That she was too late.

&nbs
p; The alien creature’s body had grown to twice its size, the quills upon it radiating some foul energy, some foul message from the tunnel out into the world.

  She had a flash . . . a terrible bit of precognition where she saw other organisms, similar to this one, but hidden all over the planet, and each and every one of them was doing what it was supposed to do.

  Performing the purpose that it was created for . . . that they were created for.

  She felt it at once and knew that the organism was right: She was too late.

  A terrible silence fell over the tunnel. It was as if the others could sense it as well . . . something awful had occurred.

  And as if to mark the nightmarish occasion, music—multiple singsong tunes and tones—echoed in the twilight of the subway tunnel.

  Sidney turned her back to the sounds, at first not recognizing what they were, but then it dawned on her as she watched the actions of her friends.

  The moment moved in some strange form of slow motion, the songs enticing them to reach into pockets to remove the devices that called for their attention.

  Devices that had been silent since the beginning of the attacks.

  Since the beginning of the invaders’ plans.

  But this was the next phase, Sidney knew, screaming as she ran toward them, as she watched those who had still managed to hang on to their cellular devices bring their precious phones up toward their faces.

  “Don’t answer that!” she screamed.

  She had an idea what the screen of the device was telling them, who the call was from, and from the expressions on her friends’ faces, she imagined that it was a loved one or a caller of some importance.

  Langridge was who she reached first, swatting the illuminated smartphone from her hand, watching as it clattered to the ground, its face shattering with the impact.

  She saw the fury in the woman’s face—the fear, the gun in her hand slowly on the rise.

  “It’s part of their plan!” Sidney screamed, and saw that they were listening. Thank God, those who had phones were stopping before . . .