Alien, p.17
Alien, page 17
Sitting up, she paused as another eruption of pain subsided, then moved toward the stand, her shoulder and head protesting loudly. She grabbed hold of the metal pole and kicked at the wheeled plastic base once, twice, before breaking the pole free. It wasn’t much of a weapon, the metal thin, the pole a hollow tube, but it would have to do. She took a two-handed grip on the pole, then turned and started toward the monster.
While she’d acquired her weapon, the monster had turned back toward the two miners. The men were struggling to get to their feet, features twisted in pain as their broken bodies refused to cooperate. The monster crouched low and extended its head toward one of them. At first, Miriam thought it was going to lunge forward and bite him. Instead, as it opened its jaws a smaller mouth jutted from the first, and with a harsh chuffing sound it expelled a black cloud. The dark gas struck the man in the face, and then the monster swiveled its head toward the second miner and gave him a blast as well.
Both men began coughing violently, and within seconds black lesions rose on their skin, along with irregular patches of angry boils. They continued coughing violently, now unable to even attempt to stand.
She thought the monster—whose body, she now realized, possessed the same black lesions and swollen boils—would move in for the kill. Instead, it drew away from its victims and headed for the other woman.
Miriam thought of what James had told her, about illness breaking out at the Mall. Was this what he had been talking about? If so, she understood why the staff in the hall had sounded scared. Whatever this disease was, it went through a victim’s body like wildfire.
The monster turned its pustule-covered back on the infected miners and started toward its new prey. The woman had continued to scream, and now it rose in both pitch and intensity, the sound causing Miriam to grit her teeth. She thumped the pole loudly on the floor as she approached the thing, hoping to distract it.
The tactic didn’t work, though. Moving with astonishing speed, the monster darted to the screaming woman. It grabbed hold of her head with claw hands—hands that looked almost human in their way—and positioned its mouth close to her head. Its smaller mouth shot forward and broke through the skin and bone of her forehead, plunging into the soft meat beyond. Blood sprayed, and the woman’s body spasmed and jerked as if she were being electrocuted.
Her screaming stopped.
The smaller mouth remained lodged inside the woman’s head for several seconds. Miriam wasn’t sure, but she thought it might be swallowing bits of brain. She was sorry for the woman’s death, but grateful for the distraction it provided. As she drew near the creature, she raised the IV pole, intending to swing it at the thing’s bulbous head. Then its tail whipped out and struck her wounded shoulder. Maybe the monster had somehow sensed where she had been hurt, or maybe it was simply coincidence.
Either way, Miriam felt as much as heard something crack loudly in her shoulder, and then it was her turn to scream. The agony was so overwhelming that for an instant it was as if she ceased to exist as a person—as if all she was, all she ever had been, was pain. She returned to herself almost at once, and when the impact from the tail strike threatened to knock her down, she was able to slam the bottom of the pole to the floor and brace herself. She didn’t fall, but she was off-balance, and the pain in her shoulder was echoed by that in her head, making it difficult to think.
The monster’s smaller mouth retracted back into the larger, and it released its grip on the woman’s head. Eyes still widened from shock, the victim slumped over, her body half hanging off the bed. Blood poured from the ragged hole in her forehead and pattered onto the floor. Even though she was dead, black lesions and pustules began to appear on her flesh.
The monster turned around to face Miriam, and she wondered what the hell was taking Zula so long to get there.
It was at that moment that Miriam knew she was going to die. Maybe the monster would take a bite out of her brain, or maybe it would simply breathe a cloud of black death on her. Either way, she was a goner.
If she only had a few seconds of life left to her, she was determined to use them well.
The miners’ coughing had trailed away to soft, breathy sounds, and she knew they weren’t going to last much longer.
Me too, brothers, she thought.
Since the damned thing had no eyes, its only vulnerable part was its slavering mouth. She tensed, ready to raise the IV pole and jam the broken end into the opening. Hopefully the flesh inside would be tender, unprotected by the exoskeleton that covered the thing’s outer body. She would put all her strength behind the strike, shoving the rod as deep as it would go.
Miriam had no illusions about killing the beast. It was too strong, too tough, but if she could wound it maybe she’d slow it down a bit, give Zula and the trainees an edge when they arrived. It was a desperate plan, but not a bad one. Success depended on striking fast and sure, no hesitation, no half-measures.
She was ready.
But before she could raise her makeshift spear, fire erupted at the base of her spine. She felt something thrust its way inside her and then lift her off her feet. Before this moment she thought she’d understood what pain was, but this was an entirely different universe of agony hitherto unimagined.
The tail!
She’d lost sight of it, and now she knew why. The creature had snaked it around behind her and plunged its barbed tip into her back.
The monster brought her close to its face—she couldn’t believe how strong it was—and she was glad. The dumbass thing brought her close to its mouth, and she would use the last of her strength to ram the metal rod…
She couldn’t feel the IV pole in her hand. Looking down, she saw the hand was empty. She looked past it and saw the thing lying on the floor amidst splatters of her own blood. She’d dropped the rod when the tail stabbed into her back, and she’d been in so much pain that she hadn’t realized she’d done so. Miriam looked back to the monster in time to see its secondary mouth coming at her face.
At least she wouldn’t have to worry about her headache anymore.
17
Gagnon caught up with Brigette and Tamar as the two approached the Med Center. He’d told Brigette to wait for him at the Mall, but Prather must have grown tired of hanging about. He carried an equipment bag slung over his shoulder, and he was gasping for air. He hadn’t been able to find an available public transport cart, so he’d had to make his way there on foot. He would’ve railed at the indignity of it all if he’d been able to catch his breath.
Brigette held the chemical scanner, and Tamar had drawn her gun. While he wasn’t pleased to see the latter—it was imperative they capture the Xenomorph alive—he couldn’t fault the woman. He rather wished he had a firearm himself… and that he knew how to use it, of course.
It was an extraordinary concept, seeing the Xenomorph in its adult state, but he was aware that what they were doing here was extraordinarily dangerous. Originally, he’d agreed with Aleta’s insistence that the Xenomorph be taken without anyone in the Lodge being aware of its existence. Now he knew what a ridiculous idea that was. On the way here he’d passed people hurrying away from the Bioscience building toward Research and Development. Many of them had been driving electric carts, leaving none for him, but far more had been walking or even running. All of them had worn worried, even frightened, expressions.
Gagnon had been in too much of a hurry to stop and ask why—or what—they were fleeing. But then he’d already known, hadn’t he? His suspicions had been confirmed when a Security announcement came over the Lodge’s comm system, on the public speakers throughout the facility as well as personal devices.
“For the time being, travel to and from the Personnel building is prohibited. Guards will be posted at north and south entryways to make sure that all residents comply with this directive. Further updates will be provided as events warrant.
“Thank you for your cooperation.”
The word quarantine hadn’t been used, but Gagnon knew it was the real reason for the prohibition. Thanks to the Xenomorph, an outbreak of cellular necrosis had occurred in the Personnel building, and as virulent as the Xenomorph’s strain of the disease was, it wouldn’t be long before everyone in the quarantined area was infected.
If Security could prevent the disease from spreading further, the outbreak would eventually burn itself out. However, that assumed no one in other areas of the Lodge became infected, and as long as the Xenomorph remained free, further spread of the disease was a very real possibility. Unless he could render the creature no longer contagious.
Gagnon reached into his bag, removed a hypo, then walked over to Tamar.
“Roll up your sleeve,” he said.
“Why?”
“This is a vaccine for cellular necrosis. I’ve already injected myself, and Brigette doesn’t need it. You do, unless you enjoy gambling with your life.”
Tamar holstered her weapon and rolled up her left sleeve. Gagnon injected her, then returned the hypo to the bag.
“Doesn’t it take twenty-four hours for vaccines to become effective?” she said as she rolled her sleeve back down.
“Normally. I’ve made some modifications to this formula, so hopefully it will work faster.”
“Hopefully?” she said.
He shrugged, then pulled a pair of surgical masks from his bag and held one out to Tamar.
“Put this on.”
She did, and he donned his as well. As a synthetic, Brigette was immune to disease, so she didn’t require such protection.
The three continued on to the Med Center and soon found themselves approaching the double glass doors that formed the main entrance. Gagnon walked behind Brigette and Tamar, telling himself that since they held the chemical scanner and handgun, they needed to go first. Still, he didn’t mind having a couple living shields in front of him.
“I’m picking up traces of the Xenomorph’s chemical signature,” Brigette said. “I believe it’s inside the building.”
Tamar gripped her gun tighter, and Gagnon was suddenly struck by how small and ineffective the weapon looked. He would’ve felt better if she were armed with a pulse rifle. Aleta would be highly distressed to find him thinking like this, but just then he didn’t care. He wanted to keep the Xenomorph alive as much as she did, but he didn’t want to lose his own life in the process.
Brigette still carried the equipment case she’d brought with her from the lab. She deposited it on the floor outside the glass doors, along with the chemical scanner. This would leave her hands free when they confronted the Xenomorph. Gagnon decided it was time to arm himself. He reached into his bag and removed a spherical device.
“What’s that?” Tamar asked.
“It contains a large, concentrated dose of cellular necrosis vaccine. We won’t be able to inject the Necromorph with a hypodermic, so I rigged this device to deliver the vaccine in a more, ah, primitive manner.”
Tamar frowned. “Necromorph?”
Gagnon’s cheeks reddened. “It’s what I’ve taken to calling it: a Xenomorph crossed with cellular necrosis, you see.”
“What good will it do?” she asked. “Giving it a vaccine?”
“The creature possesses a hyper-accelerated metabolism,” he said. “I’m hoping this will cause the vaccine to work swiftly, counteracting the cellular necrosis that’s become part of its genetic make-up. That should cause a powerful systemic shock and we’ll be able to recapture the creature. Once we’ve done that, I’ll arrange to have the Necromorph transported back to my lab.”
“You’re hoping,” Tamar said, almost sneering.
Gagnon bristled. “If you have any better ideas, I’d like to hear them.”
Tamar said nothing.
Brigette held out her hand. “Give me the vaccine delivery device, Doctor. My aim will be more precise than yours, especially since I will experience no fear or attendant adrenaline rush as we confront the Necromorph.”
Gagnon recognized the logic of Brigette’s words, and handed her the sphere. In truth, he was glad she’d offered to wield the device. In the controlled environment of his lab he was completely confident. Outside of the laboratory there were too many variables at play, and he was far less… comfortable.
“I have a second device as well,” he said, “this one designed to subdue the Necromorph. We’ll use it if—when—the vaccine begins working on the creature.”
As they approached the Med Center, the glass doors opened automatically. Gagnon experienced a powerful urge to abandon this foolish action, to turn around and flee back to the safety of his lab. Let Brigette and Tamar attempt to deal with the Necromorph. They were far better suited to the task than he.
Yet this was a chance for him to observe the creature outside the confines of a testing chamber. The opportunity was too enticing to pass up. The thought wasn’t as convincing as he might’ve hoped, but he continued forward, following behind Brigette and Tamar, more frightened then he’d ever been in his life.
In a strange way he was exhilarated, too. He could almost see why someone like Tamar chose to do the sort of work she did.
The three of them entered the Med Center, the doors closing automatically behind them.
* * *
“No one goes in or out. Those are our orders.”
The security guard—along with three others—stood blocking the entrance to the corridor that led from the Personnel building to the Bioscience building. All four were armed with Fournier 350s, and while none of them had yet drawn their weapons, their hands rested on the guns, ready to—as the old saying went—slap leather any second.
Zula couldn’t blame them. The sight of her and her trainees jogging through the Mall, each armed with Fourniers of their own, would’ve given anyone pause. Frankly, she was surprised they hadn’t drawn their weapons and fired off a few warning shots by now.
She took a step toward the guard who’d spoken. The man gripped his weapon and drew it partway from its holster. The other three guards did the same, and Zula gestured behind her back to tell the trainees not to draw their weapons in response. The last thing they needed was to get into a firefight.
Davis spoke in her ear.
“There are more Security guards en route. These are merely the first to respond. It’s only going to get more difficult for you to reach the Med Center if you stand there arguing.”
She gave the guard her best don’t-screw-with-me-I’m-a-Colonial-Marine stare.
“We’re Venture’s Colony Protection Force,” she said. “There’ve been reports of some kind of creature attacking the Med Center, and we’ve been ordered to assess the situation there and, if necessary, kick some alien ass. Let us through. Now.”
The guard exchanged glances with his companions before facing Zula once more.
“We haven’t heard anything about letting you pass.”
“That’s because they’re our orders, not yours. Now let us through. Every minute you keep us waiting here is another minute people might be dying.”
The guard looked uncertain.
“Let me check with my supervisor.”
He reached up to tap the comm in his ear, but before his fingers could make contact with the device, Zula grabbed hold of his wrist. The other guards drew their weapons, and in response the trainees drew theirs.
“Do you want to explain why you allowed more deaths to occur,” Zula said, “and more disease to spread because you couldn’t make a decision on your own?”
Ronny stepped to Zula’s side.
“What do you care anyway?” he said to the guard. “If you let us through and anything happens to us, it’s our funeral. You can say we left Personnel before you got here.”
The guard looked from Zula to Ronny and back again.
“Yeah, all right. Get the hell out of here.”
Zula released his wrist. As she and the trainees ran past the guards, the one she’d dealt with shouted at their backs.
“I hope whatever you find has a lot of teeth and knows how to use them!”
Don’t worry, she thought. It does.
* * *
Gagnon’s heart pounded so hard he had difficulty hearing over the thrumming pulse in his ears. The reception area of the Med Center had been deserted, but once they moved on to the physician offices and examining rooms they began to find bodies of staff, nurses, doctors, and patients. Some had been torn to shreds, blood splattering the ceilings, walls, and floors. All of the bodies had black lesions and raised pustules, but the mutilated ones had far less than those which remained intact. The contagion carried by the Necromorph was so strong it could be transmitted even to the recently dead.
It was difficult to tell, given the condition of the bodies, but it appeared as if the Necromorph had taken bites out of some of them. Had it been feeding as it killed? Perhaps.
Cellular necrosis was most often fatal, but it normally took several days to get to that point. The strain the Necromorph carried worked far faster, making the creature even more dangerous than one of its kind usually was.
They reached the patient ward and entered. There were dead, infected bodies here too—three on the floor, one on a bed—but there was one thing living here, and Gagnon got his first look at the monster he had midwifed.
The creature’s back was to him, and his first impression was a being that was a combination of reptile, insect, and machine. It looked almost biomechanical. A quartet of rod-like protrusions jutted from its back—he couldn’t begin to guess at their function—and a tail that looked as if it was comprised of segmented bone swung behind it as it walked. The signs of cellular necrosis were clear. Lesions covered the creature’s surface—raised, irregular patches, darker than the rest of its form—along with clumps of swollen, barnacle-like pustules that looked ready to burst at any moment.
Most would have found the Necromorph hideous, but he marveled at its elegantly savage design, and even more so its ability to incorporate a deadly disease into its makeup. To resist the negative effects of that disease, and actually turn it into another weapon in its arsenal. Ever since Darwin, survival of the fittest had been considered the prime factor in successful evolution. Gagnon believed he now gazed upon the fittest creature the galaxy had ever produced.
