EENNCCOOUUNNTTEERRSSISSUE #08

M A G A Z I N ESEPTEMBER / OCTOBER 2013

SCIENCE FICTIONFANTASYHORROR

Cocktails and CephalopodsMarilyn K. Martin

HivesJ.B. Christopher

The HellDavid Neilsen

Wrangler BoyDavid Castlewitz

Lai-liRichard J. O'Brien

The Slaves of the EgyptianEngineersLawrence Buentello

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EENNCCOOUUNNTTEERRSSISSUE #08

M A G A Z I N ESEPTEMBER / OCTOBER 2013

Table of ContentsCOCKTAILS AND CEPHALOPODSMarilyn K. Martin ......................................................... 5

HIVESJ.B. Christopher ........................................................... 10

THE HELLDavid Neilsen ............................................................. 30

WRANGLER BOYDavid Castlewitz ................................................. 47

LAILIRichard J. O'Brien ....................................................... 61

THE SLAVES OF THE EGYPTIAN ENGINEERSLawrence Buentello ................................................... 79

Publisher: Kim KenyonEditor: Guy Kenyon

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5Sally noticed her hand trembling with fatigue, and satdown on the hotel bed with a heavy sigh. Dressed forlongdistance travel in a pink bloused jumpsuit, she was aminor heiress with a tired and anxious face beneath herwhite turban. (Galactic fashion magazines said that mosthumanoid species are bald, so they advised Earth womento travel in a turban to not shock the sensibilities of otherspecies. Besides, the fashion magazines had also cheerfully noted, a turban could also double as a sash, belt,shoulderwrap, towel, sack to carry purchases, or ahand/arm shield to greet a poisonous species).

"I don't know about this, Pete," Sally said to her husband, who POOF! had just opened his vaporlockedluggage on the other side of the kingsized floatbed.

"You alright?" asked Pete, straightening to look overhis jumbled mound of unlocked clothing. Dressed inmatching blue knit tunic, pants and socks, his casuallylined face focused on his wife. Despite his fatigue, he wasenergized by the idea of having just landed on their firstvisit to another planet beyond Earth.

Sally placed a cool hand on her warm, damp forehead."Yes, I guess. Just spacelag. God, I hope they sell Corrective Cocktails at this hotel."

"Hey! Mom and Dad?" came Curtis' ten year old voicefrom the main living room of their suite. "Can we eat thesame stuff as a ... cephalopod?"

Sally shook her head and sighed. "They slept the entire last day of our flight here. So of course they'restarving, and scouring the room service menu."

"I asked them to look for family dishes for dinner inour suite. I knew we'd be too exhausted to go to a restaurant this first evening," Pete answered logically. Then

COCKTAILS ANDCEPHALOPODSby Marilyn K. Martin

6he turned to call out, "Maybe, Curtis! You need to lookfor notations on the menu of which dishes are for humanoid consumption."

"Yeah," answered May, Curtis' older sister. "There'relittle stick figures beside the dishes that us people can eat.But Curtis is looking at Savory Sea Slugs, and I'm NOTgonna eat that!"

"We'd better get out there," Pete warned his exhaustedwife in a soft voice. "This is their first trip to an intergalactic hotel. And I don't want Room Service to arrivewith something chirping, thumping or slithering out fromunder the dish covers."

Sally rose and faced her husband. "Pete, look: I knowhow much you wanted to bring the kids on their first beyondsolar vacation, especially since you're a Life SpaceTechnologist. And I'm trying to be a good sport here,really.

"But three months of enduring injections foreverything from Tantric Shriveling Disease to Burning EyeDeath gave me plenty of time to think that this ... may nothave been the best way to spend the summer. Especiallywith a couple of preteens who stare and giggle at everypassing alien, and run around stabbing every picture inthe spaceports thinking they're touchscreens."

"How about something with only half a stickfigurecalled Intensely Arachnid?" called out Curtis.

"NO!" answered Pete and Sally in unison.An hour later, Sally and the kids lingered at their suite

dining table, the remnants of ordered dishes before them.Pete was working the wallsized computer screen nearby.The living room was oval shaped with 360degree lighting that could change moodcolors with verbal commands. The sitdown furniture was just what they'dordered: "midheight humanoid plush for sitting, in coolblues and greens".

The kids had turned their chairs to watch their father.Curtis was all boy, shaggy brown hair and darting eyes always ready for an adventure. He wore expandable blacktoughwear, pants and shirt made with extra "repulsivefibers" to help protect his body from piercings and hard

7landings. May was a year older, studious and infinitelycurious about everything, like her father. She wore apretty pink and blue bloused jumpsuit. Like her mother,she had her light brown hair in a ponytail on top of herhead.

Beside the large computer screen in the wall, therewas a huge, halfbubble window of thick plastic thatshowed a beautiful 30th floor vista of a bustling alien city,housing a variety of extraterrestrial species. The bubblewindow was slowly darkening to simulate their programmedin day/night hours during adjustment, although the afternoon sun shone like a spotlight in onedark upper corner.

The kids and Pete were enthusiastically discussingwhat to do tomorrow. "Since this planet is near a welltraveled commercial corridor," Pete was explaining, "Theyhave the best museums in this quadrant of the galaxy."He tapped the screen menu to one side labeled Museumsof the Good to Best Kind. "Here are the most recommended," he said, tapping open a subscreen. "We've got thePretty Rocks Museum of Rare Minerals and Gemstones."

"Good to Best Kind?" queried Curtis. "Pretty RocksMuseum? Do these aliens really talk like that?"

"They had to pick descriptive words that could betranslated into any language, and not lose their meaning," answered May.

"Exactly, May. Thanks," Pete stated. He went back tostudy the screen. "Then there's the Live Air Animal Museum, which sounds like some kind of zoo." Pete openedthe details and scanned them for a few seconds. "Uh, no,never mind," he suddenly added. "That won't work. Youkids are too young for the hoverlungs."

"That's 'cause their lungs are too immaturble," pipedup Sally at the other end of the table, her turban leaningslightly. "No, I mean immalutionery ..."

"I think you mean immature, darling," answered Petewith a quick frown. "How are you doing over there withyour Corrective Cocktails? Which one are you on now?The Anxiety Eraser or the Golden Calmative?"

May leaned closer to her Dad and said quietly, "She

8mixed them both in a flower vase she found in a cabinet.I think she's long past Calm and is now headed straighttoward Eraser. She'll be out cold in an hour."

"If she's in bed sick tomorrow," piped up Curtis, alsoleaning toward his father, "can we go someplace withmore to do than just look at stuff in a museum? I saw anad in the last spaceport for a 'Space Junk Free RangeShootout' in orbit!," he reported excitedly. "No cage ortethers, real weapons, plenty of personal shielding. Andeach day's winner gets to tour the orbital headquartersfor 'Tomorrow's Soldiers Today'."

Pete sighed with annoyance. "You DO want yourmother to kill me on this vacation, don't you?" heanswered sharply. "No, we're not going to shoot spacejunk. And 'Tomorrow's Soldiers Today' is always recruiting for mercenaries. So no, I don't want to endure tenyears of mercenary recruitment messages, videogamesand sample weapons sent to our home!"

"I read that this planet has a flower garden in a tubewith a central elevator, called the Flower Tower," chimedin May. "That might be fun to visit."

"Flowers?" said Curtis, making a face of disdain. "Wefly a million lightyears to look at ... flowers?!"

Pete went back to his touchscreen. "Let me see whatelse we could do tomorrow." He sorted rapidly throughmore Tourist Activities subscreens. "OK, tell you what,"said Pete finally, turning to face his children with an enthusiastic smile.

"We'll do the Flower Tower in the morning, since Mommay be not, uh, be feeling real well. Then tomorrow afternoon, we'll catch the Beast of Burden Auction. Animals from all over the galaxy will be auctioned off.Creatures for food, transportation, breeding or pets. Sayshere that this particular auction is featuring animals withthree to seven legs, all with one to three heads, tails andtailless. That'd be fun to see, huh?"

THUMP! Pfffffffffffffffffffffff.....Pete and the kids jumped and turned. Sally had a

table knife raised, staring down at a unevenly deflatingleftover green blob of food. "It was gettin' bigger!" ex

9plained Sally. "Puffin' up like a b'loon! I dinnit want it toget so big it'd 'splode."

"Uh, OK, no problem," answered Pete, quickly steppingaway from the touchscreen. "Some species inject gasesinto their food, so they cook faster or more evenly. May?Call this hotel's health services and ask them to send upsome humanoid antiinflation pills. We all ate that Turbondo vegetable, and we certainly don't want to swell uplike that in the middle of the night."

May nodded and headed for the phone. Pete faced hisson. "Curtis? Scour this hotel room for any kind of aprinted guide to the Spa Services this hotel offers for humanoids. I picked this hotel since I thought they offeredan extensive list of massages and beauty treatments. Butthere's nothing on this computer or the hotel's website. Ifyou can't find a brochure, call and ask for one." He thenadded urgently, "And then go get the dang thing, if theywon't send it to this suite's computer."

As Pete helped his sleepy, unsteady wife to their master suite floatbed, he could hear Curtis on their bedroom's trackingintercom. "Hey, May! Two to one Mombarfs on the Flower Tower tomorrow!"

Marilyn K. Martin is a freelance writer and humorist. She iscurrently writing a series of Sci Fi / Horror / Humor / Adventure /Thriller novellas titled "Hunting Monster Aliens" published onAmazon's Kindle. She has had stories appear this year in the"Universe Horribilis" anthology (Third Flatiron), and won first placefor her story in the June issue of "Fiction Vortex".She has accepted stories to appear in the "Lost Worlds"anthology (Third Flatiron) and "Bewildering Stories" sometime thisFall. She also writes weekly articles and humor columns forComputorEdge.com.

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A bankers box full of evidence stared back at him,Case 6607 written in black marker on all four sides. Detective Ford Lawler slowly pulled each item from the boxand arrayed it neatly on the conference table with somberdiligence. His eyes tallied the inventory: crime report,medical analysis from the hospital, a composition notebook with diary neatly printed on the front, endless interview transcriptions, a few photos, some newspaperclippings from the summer of 77. His hands, almost ifthey had a mind of their own, spread the clippings beforehim. One caught his eye:

FAMILY BUTCHERED IN SLEEP. POLICE BAFFLED.Lawler picked up the medical report. It was in a thick

folder secured with a drawstring. Inside, detailed writeups from the coroner, infectious disease specialist, andpediatrician. He read from the hospital report.

Is this your idea of late night reading?Lawler lifted his head and sighed at the crumpled fig

ure framed in the doorway that belonged to DetectiveCharles Kingsley. Lawler had been reading for two hours.

Do you remember this case? Number 6607?Nah. Thats before my time slick. I started that winter

though. People were still talking about it when I came onboard. You know, water cooler chatter.

Lawler pushed himself back, folded his arms across hischest. Thinking.

That was some summer though. Star Wars just cameout. I took my girl to the drivein down in Tigard. Theynever did catch the perp.

Lawler nodded, not saying anything.Why the trip down memory lane? You got a new

lead?Nothing like that. Do you remember the little girl in

HIVESJ.B. Christopher

11

the case?Kingsley took a step closer and said, Oh yeah. He

snapped his fingers and smiled, proud at his powers ofrecall. She had cancer or something right? She was kidnapped and they never found her. Am I close?

Thats pretty good. She didnt have cancer, but youreright, shes still missing. She disappeared without atrace. Lawler continued, The kid suffered from someunknown respiratory and skin disease.

So?I think my nephew has the same thing. Im trying to

track down some of the doctors mentioned in the casefile.

Kingsley still looked at him puzzled.You know how the Chief has us work cold cases from

time to time well, I read 6607 here about a year ago.When I saw what my nephew was going through, I immediately thought of this case.

The Chief know you doing this?Nope. Id like to keep it that way.Roger that. I didnt see a thing.Kingsley turned to leave, when Lawler said, You care

to help?Im sorry brother. But right now, my only career goal

is reaching retirement and this doesnt seem like it is partof the track.

Doctor Watson, we spoke on the phone yesterday.Im Detective Lawler with Portland PD

The door opened a crack. A giant eye bulged from thedarkness, surveyed Lawler from head to toe. A gravellyvoice from behind the door said, What dyou want?Doctor Watson lived in a cabin near Mt. Hood. It was adesolate area where people valued privacy above all else.His cabin stood amongst giant pines, two cars on blocksout front, a red pickup in the back.

This is a case from 1977The door swung open. My reports and statements are

on file. What is it you want?Detective Lawler flashed his badge. I know you dont

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know me, but this is related to an old case. The Stevenshomicides. Number 6607. Im just asking for a fewminutes of your time and then Ill be on my way.

The reed thin man behind the door was Doctor Watson, retired in 1988, divorced, never remarried, no children. He was the infectious disease specialist citedrepeatedly in medical reports attached to the case 6607reports. Lawler thought this was the man to help hisnephew; clearly, Lawler realized he had made a mistake.Time had not been kind to Watson. His hair was uncombed and he wore a flannel shirt that draped over hisnarrow shoulders and hung over his pants. Gettingdressed and answering the door were both done in haste.

Im sorry to bother you. I was just hoping you couldrefer me to a colleague or maybe you know

Get to it son.My nephew Max, he has the same condition de

scribed in the medical reports. The symptoms, the trajectory of the illness, it all matches. Im desperate Doc. Weneed your help. No one knows whats wrong with him.

Lawler watched fear crowd the doctors face andchange its pallor. The doctor in a lower voice, said, TheStevens family murders. I remember. I can still Jessica.The one they never found. She was a patient of mine. Shehad a unknown condition. He bit his lip, reconsideringhis word choice. But what else was it? He had a lifetimeto consider it and he still didnt know how to describe it.His tone changed and he said, Good god. I always knewthere would be others. He moved to his sofa, and collapsed into it, his eyes distant. Sitting there, the imagesfrom that frightful summer swam before him, and heturned pale as milk, the sudden terror haunting him onceagain.

Lawler followed and moved to the center of the room.He dared not sit. Inside, books, newspapers andmagazines were piled wherever there was space.

You need to talk to Detective Dwight Miles. He wasthe lead detective on the case. His small beady eyes wetwith tears, looked directly at Lawler. The detective shiftedon his feet, for once uncomfortable.

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Ive read most of it. I was trying to get names of themedical staff that treated the child.

The old man sighed and repeated, You need to talk toMiles. He knows everything about the case. Dont wasteyour time with doctors. Get to Miles. He may know whatto do. The doctor coughed a heavy throaty cough thatsounded like he suffered from emphysema.

Doc, do you think theres anything science can do? Imean this was almost 40 years ago, surely medicine hasadvanced. There has to be someone out there who hasthe answer.

The doctor continued to cough. He held up his hand,signaling Lawler to wait. After the coughing fit passed,Watson shook his head slightly, gulped and said, If yournephew truly has the same illness, then there is nothing.Tell me, how far along is it? The hives right? Thick heavyscabs really. Almost looks like giant fish scales. Rough tothe touch. Reptilian looking?

Both his feet are covered. Its moving up his legs.Sometimes science only offers more questions and

not the answers we seek. Are you a religious man?In my line of work, thats a luxury.Then there is nothing left for you to do. Nothing.The word reverberated in Lawlers ears like someone

cupped him on the side of the head. Confronted with ananswer he didnt like, Lawler stormed out of the cabinand jumped in his car and sped back toward Portland,kicking up a rooster tail of rocks and pebbles. Lawler andhis wife Evangeline could never have children of theirown, something he quietly blamed on his wife. He lovedMax as if the child was his own.

Detective Lawler found himself back at the station,going through the case files for 6607 again. During thedrive back, there was one item that kept haunting him.The diary of Mrs. Kim Stevens, mother of Jessica, deceased. He didnt read it earlier, afraid that hed seen itbefore with what his brothers family was going through.He didnt need to read the play by play as hed experienced it nearly first hand.

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Detective Dwight Miles, retired in the fall of 1977, stilllived in Portland, never married. The department file onhim seemed incomplete he thought, absent was any mention about his retirement or record of any accommodations received in the line of duty. Lawler was surprisedthat the number on file was current, and left a messageon his voice mail

The coroners report could not accurately list the causeof death for Kim Stevens. The body was greatly mutilated,and was missing the skull. Miles pushed the coroner report to the side and picked up the ageless diary. His eyeslingered a moment as he pictured her sitting down eachnight to write it in bed, placing it on her bedside tableafter she had completed her daily entry. In the box hefound a picture of her. Yellowed and faded, in the photoshe had a perm, wore a white oversized blouse. She hada big toothy smile. She looked happy. He skimmed severalentries until he found the one he was looking for:

July 12, 1977Today we found out that our little baby Jessica is allergic

to macadamia nuts. We just got a box of candies and alohashirts from my parents who spent a week in Hawaii fortheir thirtieth wedding anniversary. Jake didnt know it,none of us did, and he gave Jessica a small piece of macadamia nut. Almost instantly, she started throwing up violently and then convulsing. We rushed her to the hospital thankfully we live close to St. Anthonys. Jake carried herstraight into the ER. She was just this lifeless body. No father should have to bare witness to that. We were both cryingon the ride over, convinced she would not make it. Jake wasdriving like a mad man. I had to yell at him twice to slowdown or else he would get us both killed. I was tremblingwith fear. I thought my baby was going to die. At the hospital, they took us to a room right away. Everyone wasdressed in white; I still remember the panic on their faceswhen they saw Jessicas limp form. She was hardly breathing.

They gave her a shot, but that didnt seem to work. Jakewas screaming at them as the heart monitor was going allover the place. The orderlies had to come and take Jake

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away. They said he was disruptive and preventing themfrom doing their job. And all this time, Jessica was slippingfurther away. I felt sorry for her. I felt responsible for this.We should have known better. I just sat there, crying, blubbering. I couldnt do anything.

She flat lined that night. For two minutes, nothing theydid could resuscitate her. The ER doctor that night, DoctorBlock, he looked at his watch, ready to log the time ofdeath, when she bolted upright, sucking in a big gulp of air,like she was under water for a long time and needed air.The heart monitor started to beep again. Tonight was amiracle. Jake had to be sedated and was in another room,but when I went to tell him that little Jessica was going torecover, I could tell it registered. I could see it his face. It relaxed a bit, and he smiled as much as the sedatives couldallow.

July 16, 1977We are able to go home today. Jessica seems to have re

turned to normal. The doctor is satisfied with her recoverybut she is leaving with a confirmed nut allergy. If she hasnuts again, her air passageway will swell up, and she coulddie. Its that simple. Jake already has gone through thepantry and has thrown away anything with nuts in it. Hedidnt like that one bit, on account of how he doesnt like towaste money. The next time, the doctors have warned us,she might have a stronger reaction. Jake is in good spiritsand has promised he will stop smoking in the house sincethe Doctor warned it would irritate her throat.

July 17, 1977Tonight we had our first dinner together. Our family is

once again whole. Jake tried to blame the entire episode onmy parents, but I didnt let it bother me. He said none ofthis would have happened if my parents werent stickingtheir nose where it didnt belong. I told him it was nothinglike that. He was just being

Excuse me, Detective Lawler? You have a call on line3, Mr. Dwight Miles. It was a blonde haired first yearflatfoot. He popped his head into the conference roomwhere Lawler had set up camp. It took Lawler a momentbefore the name registered.

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He sprang to his feet. He had written Miles off. Hedidnt think hed call back. He felt hope glimmering in hismind like a dim light in a cave.

He closed the notebook gently, as if it would disintegrate into the air.

He picked up the line from a phone mounted on thewall.

Is this Dwight Miles?Yes. Whats this about?Doc Watson suggested I contact you. This is a person

al matter, but Im researching a possible medical episodethat occurred

Youre talking around it. He had a rough, beefy voice. Lawler pictured him to

be a tall, heavyset man.Yes sir. Ill get to it.Can the sir business.Look, its about case 6607. I need to ask you some

questions about it.Miles didnt say anything for a long time, but Lawler

could hear him breathing in shallow gasps, like he wasbreathing through a straw.

Mr. Miles?Get on with it.Its my nephew. He has the same thing that Jessica

Stevens had in the case file. Its on both his feet.Everything theyve tried, has failed.

Miles was hooked now. I dont want to do this overthe phone. They could be listening. I want you to see thefear in my eyes, its like a sickness. I want you to understand what you are dealing with. How soon can wemeet?

Lawler gave him the name of a bar near the airport.The Rusty Bucket. It was quiet and out of the way. Heused it once before to meet with a confidential informantseveral years ago in a burglary ring that he busted. Nowat 3pm, it was nearly empty. After nine, it was a strip clubwhere the girls had to bring their own music.

Lawler told Miles that hed be sitting at the bar drink

17

ing a coke.Detective Dwight Miles entered the bar and the first

impression Lawler had was that of an ex football jock.Tall and heavy shouldered, he looked strong despite hisage.

Lawler? It was that baritone voice from the phone.Lawler stood and said thanks for coming out to meet

him.Skip the shit. He pulled up a stool and sat beside

Lawler, and set his great forearms on the counter. Heordered a Bud. This isnt a social call. What Im about totell you, has taken me thirty years to say. They retired mebecause of it. I was instructed never to talk about it. Never. And Ive remained true to the deal. Ive never spokenwith the papers or the news stations. No, their idea, wasgiven enough time, this would all blow over. And theirplan worked. The case is forgotten, buried. A cold case ina room full of cold cases. And the world has moved on.Youre familiar with the case I take it?

Yes.They were afraid I would go to the press. So they

made me an offer I couldnt refuse. They retired me whenI was just fortytwo with full benefits. Id been on theforce since I was twentyseven. Not a bad deal. But Ididnt want to do anything else. The job was all I knewhow to do. My wife didnt like me around the house muchand soon the drinking started. And then the inevitabledivorce. But no amount of beer could help me unsee whatI saw that summer.

Miles finished half his beer in a single gulp.Watson called me after you drove up to see him. I

knew you were coming.Are you two close?I wouldnt say that. He took an interest in my well

being you could say. He looked out for me and helpedme.

Lawlers face grew waxen.I was the first one to the crime scene, which is un

heard of for a detective. I was in the area when I heard areport of shots fired at a residential house. 134 Mac

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Adam, Johns Landing. There were hardly any housesdown there at the time. As dumb luck would have it, Iwas minutes away. Shots fired. Remember that. Becausethat does not appear anywhere in the case files.

I get to the house. The front door is hanging on thehinges. The jamb was splintered. The force came from theinside. It was like a grenade went off and blew the dooropen. I pulled out my service revolver and entered theresidence.

Now, before I tell you the rest, I want you to think,what would I gain by making this up? Check my records. Iwas a detective in good standing with the department.What do I have to gain by this? Every day for the last 30years, I relive the moment of entering that house. The details are all still fresh, as if I just had this nightmare. Itried to think what would have I done differently?

I entered the house. Im hit with the rush of rot, likesomething decaying. It was hot that day. So her body wasin the heat for hours before Jake Stevens came home andflipped out and pulled out his piece. I climbed the stairs,I covered my nose with my left hand, I moved down thehall leading with my pistol. Just like they teach you in theacademy. Im shaking, the gun trembling before me. And Icant control it.

Then I heard it. At first I thought it was static on theTV or radio. I get closer to the master bedroom. Thesmell is unbearable. Then I see whats making the noise.Thousands and thousands of flies. Theyre covering theheadless body of Mrs. Stevens. Something had poppedher head off and disemboweled the body.

We never found the murder weapon. But whateversevered her head was delivered with such force that itpenetrated the wall behind her. Its an arrowhead typeweapon with a three bladed tip. I always imagined it wasa spear.

Jake was taken by surprise in the small hallway leading upstairs from the bedroom. He was opened up like agutted fish and was missing both his eyes like they werepunched out. I suspect he saw his wife, and then decidedto run upstairs. Was he trying to get away? They didnt

19

have a basement. Maybe he was trying to hide? He wasoverwhelmed by force and squeezed off two shots intothe wall during the struggle. I think he was trying to putthe gun to his head but couldnt act fast enough.

There was a set of footprints in blood leading fromthat mess, heading upstairs. They were small, the size ofa child. I called out and I could hear laughing. But itwasnt a childs giggle. No, this was a throaty cackle. Itwas the sound of evil. I followed the footsteps, fasternow, my heart racing. I remember I was sweating somuch like I was in an oven. Im on the top floor of thehouse a converted attic bedroom. And the footstepslead to an open window. I rush to it, nothing beneath me.There are no nearby trees for someone to use. I stick myhead out the window, towards the roof. I see a smallfootprint set in the top part of the window. I can see fivelittle toes pressed firmly into the glass. And thats it. Ihear this faint laughter, that cackle. And then I hearmovement along the roof and then its gone. Forever.

Lawler made a face like he was sucking on a lemon.When I close my eyes at night, I still hear that laugh.

I go to bed with a gun under my pillow every night.Lawler looked at him, troubled.I know what youre thinking. There were three

people in the house. Two were smeared across it likestrawberry jam. The third walked out and disappearednever to be seen again.

Are you telling me, you think the kid did it?I have had thirty years to think about this. Every day

I relive those frantic five minutes in that house. And myanswer is yes.

Lawler considered what Dwight said, his face set.That kid flat lined. She was dead for almost three

minutes. I think when she came back, she broughtsomething with her. And she started to transform. Like alarva. We found that heavy skin sloughed off throughoutthe house. She shed it that day.

Lawler paid for his soda and the beer.You think Im crazy dont you?I think you need to see a doctor.

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Look. If your sonNephew. Its my brothers boy. Max.If your nephew really has... has this affliction there is

only one thing you can do.Lawler had heard enough. He had slipped off his stool

when Miles grabbed his jacket and pulled him close andsaid, You have to put a bullet between that childs eyes. Iam sure of it.

Lawler pushed him back and was about to counterwhen he stopped himself and said, Let me indulge thisidea for a moment. Why would this happen to theStevens family in 77? Why would this happen to mybrothers family?

How long you been a cop?Seven years.Hell and you havent figured that out yet? Sometimes

bad things just happen to good people. Nobody asks toget raped. Nobody asks to get murdered. But sometimesbeing at the wrong place at the wrong time hands you adeath sentence.

Lawler gave him a twenty and said to either use it forbooze or a cab. He thanked him for his time and left.

In the car in the parking lot, Lawler cursed his luck.He felt like he had just wasted his time with the doctor,and now Miles. Time was something he did not have.

The next morning, he called his brother from his office with bad news. Deadends and crazy talk. He gavehis brother a quick run down of accounts skipping overthe details that Miles had provided at the bar. His brothersaid thanks but didnt expect much, given that everythingelse resulted in no improvement in little Max.

Hes getting worse. The hives, theyre up to his knees.And it hurts to move, so Max only stays in bed. Thehives, theyre like fish scales. But real sharp. You shouldsee them His brother cut himself off and cried,something he hadnt done since they were kids and he felloff his bike and his front teeth popped out of his mouthlike shiny dice.

His brother hung up the phone and Lawler fought

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back the tears. Fish scales? Didnt Watson say that too?Allison Haan, the curlyhaired secretary to Chief Ed

monds, appeared at his desk and said his presence wasrequested immediately.

Edmonds told Lawler to take a seat. He watched Allison close the office door and said, Detective Dwight Milestook his own life early this morning. Edmonds watchedthat news sink in across Lawlers face.

Sitting beside Edmonds, waiting his turn to speak wasOliver Phillips. Once a seasoned detective, he worked inInternal Affairs. A white wreath of hair crowned hisnearly bald head. He had a reputation as a nononsenseinvestigator.

Lawler didnt say anything. Suddenly, he felt like hewas on trial. He recalled giving Miles twenty bucks andsome line about using it for booze or cab fare.

Edmonds eyed Lawler, and said, In his suicide note,he mentioned you. Edmonds took pleasure in that,watching Lawler shift his weight in his seat.

Phillips handed a photocopied document to Lawlerand said, Do you think its odd that he mentions yourname?

The suicide note read: For 30 years Ive lived with it.Ive slept with it. Ive carried this weight with me where everI go. I cant any more. Det. Lawler you know the truth.

But before Lawler could even stammer or begin tothink of an answer, Phillips continued and said, I thinkInternal Affairs would be very interested to know aboutyour relationship with this individual and the context ofthis note.

Its related to case 6607.You have a new lead? Lawler was impressed at this

knowledge of the case. 6607 was still fresh for the olderpolice administrators.

Lawler shook his head no and recounted why he hadbeen reading the case files.

Edmonds, tenting his fingers before his chest, sighedand said, Youre a good a cop but youve broken protocoland then this business with Miles. Youve really forcedmy hand here. Youre suspended until an internal invest

22

igation can ascertain the specifics of your relationshipwith the deceased.

What? Are you kidding me? First of all, my investigation, if you want to call it that, has been occurring whenIm off the clock. My daily case load has been uninterrupted.

Phillips pulled out a notepad and read, Miles calledyou yesterday at 1:30 pm and you left shortly thereafterostensibly to meet him?

Edmonds said in a dull voice, Just serve the suspension and be done with it. You were using your access tothe case files for personal gain. Its a direct violation.

Lawler, almost unmoved, said, Did you know Miles?It didnt bother Lawler that he had been under the watchful eye of Phillips, what he wanted to know was the truthregarding case 6607.

Both men glanced at each other, unsure of how theyshould answer.

Phillips spoke first and said, He was a drunk. Thatswhy he left the force.

From the case file, there was no record of that. Infact, there was a copy of his personal file in there. Most ofthe history, his accommodations, reviews, are all missing.

Must be some type of clerical error. Phillips didntbreak stride. He was a drunk. Edmonds seemed unwilling to go along with the charade and remained tightlipped.

Who was the chief back then? Did you two work onthe case?

Edmonds appeared rattled. That was a long timeago. Most of the people that worked that case are dead.

Lawler bit his lip.If you have nothing else, you may go.With Lawlers hand on the doorknob, Phillips called

out, Well be contacting you shortly about Miles.That was the warning shot over the bow, he surmised

walking down the stairs.In the parking lot, Lawler sat in his car and punched

the dashboard. What did they know? What were theyhiding? This was clearly a case of Lawler getting his hand

23

slapped. He knew now that they were watching and case6607 for whatever reason, was taboo. Maybe it represented a black eye in the departments history? A period inits history when the Portland PD was powerless to doanything? Lawler didnt know. He turned as he pulledout of the parking spot when he noticed the Stevens diary in the backseat.

He phoned his brother Charles, and didnt tell himabout the suspension. All Ford did was sleep now. Hebarely ate, seemed lethargic. Their pediatrician said itwas premature to send him to the hospital. They wouldwait a couple of more days. A day of bad news allaround, thought Lawler. He told his brother he would beby in the morning to help out.

He fetched a beer from the fridge and took a familiarplace on the sofa with the Stevens diary on his lap.

July 20, 1977Jake is smoking in the house again, after he promised he

wouldnt do it. But in a way, I cant blame him. The hives,thick in some places like armor, has crept up Jessicas leftarm, right calf, and now her left foot is showing signs of it.All she does is moan in pain. I massage it with Vaseline,keeping the skin moist. She seems to like that. The skin isvery rough, like sandpaper in some spots. Jake is verynervous and paces around the house all the time.

Id rather he was smoking than drinking. I dont wanthim near us when hes drunk. He came home last night witha few beers in him, and he called Jessica a monster. Hecalled our own child a monster.

I moved Jessica into our bed now. He can sleep on thesofa or in the garage. I dont care at this point. I want tokeep Jessica near me. There are times that I think I see theold Jessica in there. A flicker or a flash, her lips pull up intoa smile, and I think its all going to be good again. Then thesmile erodes back into that lifeless face.

July 21, 1977The hives are past both her knees and up to her

shoulders. Im not even sure what to call them anymore.Theyre starting to form and take shape on her lower back.

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She seems to be in a constant state of pain. Doc Watsoncame by yesterday. He is a kind man and is generally regarded as the best in his profession. He came by the houseand took a sample of one of the hives. He had to remove itwith a scalpel. Jessica cried when he removed it and a thickpuss ran from the incision.

He said he was personally going to drive the sample tothe lab. He would call as soon as he had any information.We drank tea and he asked how Jake and I were doing. Hegave me his number and said to call him if we ever neededanything.

Strangely, when I returned an hour later, the section thatDoc Watson had removed was replaced with new tissue. Anew scale had emerged and you could never tell one was removed.

Jake saidLawler fell asleep with the diary opened on his chest.

He had finished a sixpack and had been alternatingbetween reading the diary and wondering what Miles hadbeen living with all these years that drove him to suicide.Was the meeting with Edmonds and Phillips a coincidence? Or were they related?

He awoke the next morning at almost eleven, andfound the diary had slid off his chest onto the floor. Picking it up, a piece of paper slipped from the book, hung inthe air a moment like a falling leaf and pin wheeled to theground.

Lawler reached over, picked it up. It wasnt just a pieceof paper. It was a photograph, a Polaroid with the datewritten on the back. July 23, 1977. He flipped it overand instantly felt his stomach tighten. The photo was oflittle Jessica with hives covering nearly all of her body.Her skin looked ruptured and loose in parts. She did notlook human. He was reminded of pictures of lizards hedwatched late on TV on the Discovery Channel, when theywere about to shed their skin. Although the hivescovered her entire body, the color had faded, and it appeared as a lifeless sack.

He recalled the words of the late Dwight Miles. Heused the word sloughed off. Shedded like an animal peel

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ing its previous coat because it was too small. But whatwas underneath?

July 22, 1977Doctor Watson doesnt know what to do. Ive called him

repeatedly and although he tries to calm me down, he isntmuch help. The lab results were inconclusive. He needed tosend it to the university where they had better equipment,which will take days. Like the others, they just dont knowwhat to do. The hives now cover from the waist down andhave joined with the patchwork along her back. Both armsare also covered and they appear to be racing to join at herchest or neck. Jake is of no help. Last night he said this wasall my fault from the LSD I did in college. He didnt go tocollege so any chance he gets he sticks it in my face.

Against Jakes wishes, I spoke to a priest yesterday.When I said my daughter needed last rites soon, he agreedto come by. But when I showed him the Polaroid, he nearlythrew up. After that he didnt offer much advice and basically said to call his office and arrange an appointment. Hecrossed himself and said he would pray for Jessica and me.

Her breathing has returned to normal. I guess thats animprovement.

July 23, 1977I awoke and found Jessica totally encased in those dis

gusting hives. In some places the skin was loose. I screamedwhen I saw it covered her face. Jake ran into the room. Butwe found it was no longer fused to her skin, but loose. Realgentle like, we removed it first from her face, then we pealedit off the rest of her body, slowly, limb by limb. I thoughtabout calling the doctor but there was no time. Jake wascrying.

Beneath, her skin was as smooth as fine china. She wasour little girl again.

We both jumped back when her eyes flashed open. Shedid not speak, and she remained still. We were able to sither up. Her eyes had changed color to a dull yellow. Almostamber. But she was breathing normally.

Shes resting in the bed beside me. Jake went to the storeto get some cigarettes. But I know he went to go get somemore beer. Thats ok. I think things are going to get better.

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This was the last entry in the diary. Lawlers heart wassent racing when he glanced at the bottom of the lastentry. It wasnt the text that got to him, but somethingelse that was on the last page of the diary... a smalldroplet of blood.

He had talked to his brother James on the phone. Hisbrother said it was a bad time, Max was screaming andJanice was hysterical. Max was completely covered inthick hives. Lawler said he didnt care, he was on his wayand there was something he had to do.

He parked, and jumped out of the car. His pistol wasin his shoulder holster, beneath his jacket. On the wayover he remembered what Miles had said. He tried topush the thought out of his mind, but he wanted to beprepared. Thats what he told himself. Something waswrong. He had been suspended for it, Miles killed himselfover it, and Doctor Watson was hiding from it. He wasdetermined to get to the bottom of this.

Lawler knocked on the front door.From inside the foursquare house, he could hear cry

ing, sobbing. It was his sisterinlaw, Janice.The door opened, revealing his brother. James looked

like he hadnt slept for days, and had been crying.Lawler tried not to look his brother in the eyes. He

had thought about going in there, pistol drawn, but hedidnt want to do that. Then he was buying into whatMiles was selling and he didnt want to do that. Heneeded to judge for himself. He couldnt look his brotherin the eye, not with his 9mm pressed against his chestwith the safety off and chambered for battle, and sharewhat was running across his mind.

What is this about? This is a bad time. Janice is amess upstairs.

Where is she? Lawler said, almost pushing past hisbrother. Lawler and James were in the foyer, the stairs atthe other end. The crying, somewhere at the top.

His brother said, Shes with Max. Whats wrong? Youseem antsy.

Lawlers eyes cycled through the downstairs, as if in

27

crime fighting mode. But was that something you turnedoff? He hadnt really thought about it.

I want to see my nephew. I want to see Max. Hecursed himself for not bringing a toy or a stuffed animal.How could he forget?

His brother didnt say anything for a long time. Hesaid, Why are you here? Its late. You found somethingout didnt you?

Lawler hesitated, wondering what tipped James off.He flirted with the idea of telling him about Watson,about Miles, and his suspension, but before he could arrive at a decision, they heard a brief scream, followed bythe sound of something hitting the floor.

That was a body, thought Lawler. Automatically, hishand hauled out his 9mm. But his brother seized hiswrist.

What the hell? Youre not going in there like this.Youll scare everyone.

You have to trust me on this.James refused to lessen his grip.Dont make me.With his free hand, Lawler landed a punch in his

brothers soft belly, knocking the wind out of him. Imsorry.

Lawler took the first step; suddenly James tackled himfrom behind, overcoming the pain in his side. The pistolclattered down the stairs, and skidded to a rest in themiddle of the foyer. Both men exchanged punches at thebottom of the stairs. When Lawler stopped, his attentionshifted to the top of the stairs.

Shirtless and dressed only in his pajama pants, stoodMax at the top of the dimly lit stairs.

James, overcome with joy, was about to say somethingwhen he stopped. Something didnt look right.

Max, you alright? Tears welled up in his fatherseyes.

Max responded with a predatory glance like a greatcat, sizing them up, before he decided what to do next.Lawler had seen this before when he cornered a perp andthey took a moment to inventory their options.

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Lawler said, Max, its your uncle Ford. You ok? Hisvoice sounded weak, scared.

Max took a step.Now bathed in the yellow light from the foyer, both

men gasped. Blood draped over Maxs chin and smearedhis torso. He continued to descend down the stairs.

As Max walked, there was a noise of something clattering behind him. It skipped down each step, andbanged against the walls. Ford was in the middle of thestaircase, and Lawler could see it clearly now. A thin hairless tail followed Max as he walked. It was about asthick as broomstick.

Max pulled up short of the middle of the staircase, atrail of bloody footprints behind him. His eyes were a lifeless yellow, nearly neon. The boy had the face of a hunter,now free to roam and do what nature had designed it for.Watson was right. The girl died on the ER table and in herplace, was something else. Lawlers eyes saucered wide:this was not Max. This was not the nephew he loved andspoiled. This was somebody entirely different. He felt histhroat tighten, as if pinched shut.

Lawler dove for his gun.Max leapt off the staircase and landed with the soft

thud of a cat.Lawler was inches from his pistol, but could feel him

self getting pulled backwards. His hands frantically pawing at the wood floor provided no purchase. The guncontinued to recede from his grip. He looked over hisshoulder and saw young Max pulling him backwards, hissmall hands gripping Lawlers feet and pant cuffs. AboveMaxs right shoulder hung what looked like a scorpion'stail, ready to strike with its speared tip.

He screamed.

The author of "Hives" has appeared in several online magazines(Shotgun Honey, Flash Fiction Offensive, Darkest Before the Dawn,A Twist of Noir, 69 Flavors of Paranoia) under the pseudonym J.B.Christopher (www.jbchristopher.com).

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30

We was sitting for supper and Pa was just sayinggrace when they crashed.

One second we was a family of four gathered formeatloaf and potatoes and the next a fireball explodedoutside, turning night into day and bathing our wholefarm in Hellfire and damnation. The blast rocked thewalls and shattered the windows, including the bigdoublepane over the sink. Shards of glass attacked ourmeal, driving themselves into the table and potatoes andgreen beans and everything else. It happened so quicknone of us had time to blink before the glass washed usover.

I woke up on the floor. I dont think I was out long because there was glass everywhere and I could hear Jaredscreaming and outside the barn was burning upsomething fierce. I was in a buttload of pain but couldntfigure where from, it just sort of hurt all over. My handswere sliced up all nasty and I figured the rest of melooked the same.

Brushing glass out of the way, I pushed myself up, ripping my sticky cheek off the floor. There was a ton ofblood under me, whether mine or not I didnt know.

Jared was screaming. Pa was screaming, too, but Jaredwas louder. He was hunched over Ma, whod had her backto the window, and was just screaming up a storm.

I got to my feet and Pa looked over, his eyes a blankstare. Ben? You alright?

Im good, Pa, Im good. It was a lie, but it was all Icould say because I wasnt looking at Pa, I was lookingdown at Jared and Ma. She was face down on the remains of the table, her back punctured with so much glassshe looked like a pissedoff porcupine.

Mom! screamed Jared. Mom! Mom!Ma was dead. I knew that. I could tell Pa knew that,

THE HELLDavid Neilsen

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too. Jared didnt know, couldnt know. Hes only ten, andwhen youre ten your Ma never dies.

You alright Ben? You alright? continued Pa. I couldsee his face fidget and fight like it didnt want to startfeeling no emotion right then. Pa didnt have no use foremotion, he was a doer.

Is Ma? I started, but he cut me off.The Hell was that? The Hell just happened?Jared just kept screaming out for Ma over and over,

but I could already see Pa tuning him out. Tuning her out.Barns on fire, I said, pretty much doing the same as

Pa. I always did take after him more.He turned around and we stared out the window at

the blaze. We hadnt used the barn for nothing but storingtools and hay for years. Now all that hay was crackling upgood and hot and there werent no way that barn werentgonna burn to cinders. But that aint what we were staring at.

We were staring at the spaceship.Near as I could tell from the window, it had crashed

right through the barn, in one side and out the other.Now it lay a bit aways, halfburied in mud.

The Hell is that? asked Pa.I didnt say nothing, because I sure as Hell werent

gonna say it was a spaceship but damn if I couldnt thinkof anything else it were.

Ignored by us both, Jared rocked back and forth,screaming over Mas dead body.

Come on Ben, said Pa.He marched to the front door, grabbing one of the

shotguns out of the umbrella rack. He had something todo. He was going hunting. I marched right past Jared andMa, grabbed the other shotgun, and followed Pa outside.

Is Ma dead? I asked as Pa and me approached thewreckage of the spaceship.

He grunted, which was all the acknowledgment hewas gonna give. Ma being dead he couldnt do nothingabout, but this thing that done crashed through our barn?That might be something he could shoot.

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I followed in his footsteps, my hands clenching theshotgun tight. Whatever we found in that smolderingwreckage, I was gonna be ready. Id shot stuff before, Pasbeen taking me and Jared hunting since we could standup, and I wasnt afraid. With a gun in my hands, I was atotal bad ass.

Pa slowed as we got closer, and I came up behind him,ducking into his shadow. Off to our left, the barn burnedbright, flames tickling the sky. I was sad to see it go, remembering all the times me and Jared played in there,jumping from the loft into piles of hay or bouncing tennisballs off the propane tank or pretending we was superheroes and the barn our secret fortress. But I shoved allthat out of my mind and concentrated on the huge gashin the ground that ran from just past the barn to themound of mud and debris piled up on top of whateverhad just killed my Ma.

The Hell? mumbled Pa.The closer we got, the weirder it all was. It was like a

big giant had dragged his toe along the ground, clearingout an irrigation ditch or something. All along the ditchwere broken bits of our barn, each one burning into ash.The heat was nasty. We could feel it all around us, a dry,desperate heat. Like the air was on fire. I was sweatingbullets as we got within a few feet of the crash, but Icouldnt tell you if that was from the heat or my nerves.

A few feet away we got close enough to get our firstgood look at the spaceship. Because thats what it was, nomistake. A goddamned spaceship, just like in the movies.Big old ball of shiny silver metal. Except it werent big. Itwas maybe the size of my bike if you wrapped it inplastic. There werent no way a person could fit in thereand travel through space.

I was just about to tell Pa it must be some kind of robot machine when we heard a pitiful wailing. It remindedme of the sound our dog Magnet made that one time I accidentally shot him with a BB gun, which werent my faultbecause I didnt know he was sleeping behind the target.

Somethings back there, Pa, I said like an idiot.He grunted again. Stay behind me.

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Shotgun out in front, he stepped down into the gash,ready to fire. I got mine ready, too. Id seen enoughmovies to know if there were a real live alien back there Ishould shoot first and worry about being nice later.

The whining continued, soft but persistent. The onlyother sound right then was the angry snapping of the dying embers all round us, so the highpitched whine stoodout.

Maybe its hurt? I asked.Then we put it out of its misery, said Pa through the

side of his mouth.Slowly, eyes on the prize, Pa stepped up the side of the

gash and swung his aim around. From down below in thegash, I couldnt see what he saw. Instead, I saw his jawdrop, his eyes bug out, and his shotgun droop down til itwas pointing at his shoes.

Pa! What is it! Whaddya see?The Hell? The Hell is that?Pa? Pa!But he werent paying no attention to me. He was just

gawking at whatever was back there, totally stupefied.Hold on Pa, let me see!He snapped his mouth shut and waved a hand at me.

Stay down, Ben! You stay down!But I sure as Hell werent gonna stay down. Pa was

looking at a space alien, and I wanted to see it, too. Iscrambled up the side and peered around the corner.

And I saw it.It was a little feller, not quite knee high on me, and I

aint all that tall. In some ways it kinda looked like a person, with two arms, two legs and a head. And it waswearing clothes and all. But in other ways it didnt looklike no person I ever seen. The head was way too big, forone. At least compared to the body. And the arms andlegs both ended in equallybig hands and feet. It didntseem to have no fingers. Instead, the arms ended in whatlooked like big catchers mitts, all webbing and knuckles.

What is it, Pa?Get the Hell out of here, Ben. Run. Run!I pointed my shotgun. Should I shoot it? Should I

34

shoot it, Pa?Run home, Ben!But I wasnt running home. And I wasnt shooting it. It

looked at me with eyes way back on its forehead and Iknew, just like I knew with Ma, that this thing, whateverit was, I didnt need to shoot it. The whining sound was ittrying to breathe. Trying and failing. Shattered pieces of aglass helmet lay all around it. It couldnt breath our air. Itwas gonna be dead in a couple of minutes without melifting a finger.

Jesus, Pa.God damn you, Ben. You get back in the house right

now! I dont know what this devil thing is, but it aint nogood.

The Hell, Pa? The Hell?Pa sighed, giving up, and turned to look back at the

space alien. The Hell, Ben, he said. The Hell.Then the space alien raised up and shot its arm at us.I mean shot the whole damn arm off, like the arm it

self were the bullet. It screamed something unholy as itdid this and then I screamed and Pa screamed and therewas an explosion and next thing I know Im back down inthe gash, lying on my back.

It took me a good five seconds to figure out the explosion I heard was me firing off my shotgun. Anothercouple of seconds after that and I realized I didnt hearnobody screaming up there.

I dropped the gun and climbed back out, all the timeyelling Pa! Pa! and not hearing no reply. Getting to thetop, I looked all around for Pa, but didnt see himnowhere. I turned in circles, yelling at the top of mylungs, eyes blurry with tears. What stopped me wasntcatching sight of Pa, it was catching sight of the alien.

Or what was left of it.The thing was sprawled out on the ground in a big

pool of bright green gunk that I figured must be its blood.The stuff was everywhere and there was a whole lot of it,way more than there had any right to be. What wasntthere was the things head.

Near as I could tell, when I fired my shotgun, Id

35

popped the damn things head open and it had just burstall to high Heaven like a nasty zit. But instead of seeingskull and brains and teeth, there was just this green gunkoozing everywhere.

Even weirder, it was still oozing. Pouring out of thethings neck right there in front of me. Now it was myturn to drop my jaw because as I watched, the headlessbody of the alien sorta deflated until it werent no morethan an empty sack of skin. Which made no sense whatsoever.

But there werent no arguing with what I was seeing.The things insides were nothing but goop. And the goop,now a big puddle in front of me, bubbled and gurgledand just freaked me the Hell out.

I probably woulda stood there staring and pissing mypants if I hadnt heard someone mutter something behindme.

Pa? That you? I turned around but still didnt seehim. Then I heard him again. He was he was crying.Finally I saw him. And, oh Holy crap, he was pinned tothe wall of the barn fifty feet away!

Pa! I ran over to him, the heat of the fire burning myskin the closer I got. Pa!

He hung maybe two, maybe three feet off the groundon one of the few walls still standing, the alien arm sticking out of his gut, impaling him to the wall.

Ben BenPa, Ill get you down! Ill get you down from there!

Though I didnt have no idea how I was supposed to dothat. There was smoke everywhere, we were both coughing up a lung, and the fire was eating away at the barn.Pa wasnt on fire yet, but he didnt have a whole lot oftime.

Its in me, mumbled Pa. Its in me!I tried to jump up and pull that alien arm out of him,

but it was too high for me to reach. I had to act quickly,because the fire was spreading. I needed help.

Im gonna go get Jared! I told him. Well get youdown!

I can feel it! He coughed a couple of times and some

36

spittle flew out of his mouth. Its eating me!Youll be OK, Pa! Ill be right back! Ill be right back!I ran. Oh sure, I ran to get Jared, but also I ran be

cause I was so scared I was gonna throw up. What Pa wassaying, something inside of him, eating him, that wasnuts. But so was an alien crashing through our barn andshooting its arm off. So I was running, more on automaticthan anything else. Just like Pa, I had to be active.

Cause if I stopped to think, Id curl into a ball andscream.

Jared! Jared! I was yelling even before I threw thedoor open and ran into the room.

The place was a mess. I hadnt really noticed earlier,being in shock and all, but there werent a piece of furniture standing or an inch of floor not covered in glass.

Jared? I tore into the middle of the room, feetcrunching glass with every step. Jared, where are you!

Hi Ben, came the waytoocalm voice of my littlebrother. Sit down, your dinners getting cold.

He was sitting crosslegged in the corner in front of aplate of food. Hed actually dug out all our plates and hadthem on the floor in front of him, each one some combination of meatloaf, potatoes, and glass. Propped up againstthe wall next to him was our mother.

Our dead mother.Its dinnertime, he said, chewing and talking at the

same time. Little driblets of blood flew out of his mouthand he stopped to pick some glass out of his gums. Notone of Moms best.

His hands were cut up something awful and there wasblood everywhere, but he didnt seem to notice. He justpicked up his knife and fork, cut a slice of meatloaf, absently wiping glass off the top, and popped it into hismouth.

For a moment, I forgot all the horrors going on outside, overwhelmed by the horror staring me in the face.Ma leaned against the wall, mouth slack, eyes open andvacant. And way dead. With my little brother chowingdown next to her corpse.

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He swallowed and looked up at me. Aint you gonnaeat?

Shaking, I put my hands out and stepped towardshim. Jared. Man. Oh, man. Just stop. OK?

He coughed, squirting a spray of blood onto his plate,before answering. You should eat, Ben. Mom went andmade us dinner. He started cutting himself another slice.

Ben, please. Oh, Christ, Ben. I had to blink awaysome tears. I knelt in front of him and reached for hisslice of glasscovered meatloaf. Let me have that.

I made you a plate, he said, lifting his fork to hismouth.

I grabbed the fork, pissing him off big time. Heslammed his elbow into my face then slashed at me withthe fork, sending meatloaf flying across the room. Eatyour own dinner, Ben!

There were a wild look in his eyes, like maybe he wasabout to totally lose it, so I did the only thing I couldthink of and punched him straight in the nose, wincing atthe loud crunching sound and getting a spray of bloodacross my face for my troubles.

But it did the trick.Jared dropped the fork and wailed, burying his face in

his hands.Im sorry, Jared. Im so sorry.SHES DEAD!I know, I know. But Pa aint, and he needs us. He

needs us, Jared. Theres something out there it donecrashed through our barn and its got Pa all trussed upand we need to save him and

I dont need to be saved, Ben.I turned and shivered. Pa was standing right there in

the room, but he didnt look like no Pa Id ever seen. Helooked puffy. He looked wrinkled. He looked wrong.

Pa? What happened? I asked. Whats going on?I dont need to be saved. He walked over as best he

could, as if he didnt quite understand how to work hisbody. Ive already been saved.

You got down? You pulled that arm outa you?He smiled and placed a hand on my shoulder, just like

38

Pa wouldve done an hour ago. Except this time it mademy flesh crawl. It was Pas hand, but it felt like I was being comforted by a lump of jelly.

Daddy? Jared fought to get his words out. I thinkMommys dead.

And Pa smiled. Not a mean smile, more like an understanding smile. Still, it creeped me the Hell out.

She just needs to be saved is all, Son.He bent down and gently picked up Mas broken,

bleeding body, cradling her in his arms.Lets go save her.He started back out. Jared threw me a quick look then

jumped after him like a lost puppy. I didnt know what todo. Something was seriously wrong with Pa. I thoughtabout what Id seen outside. The way the goop bubbled.The way the alien had been in pain. The way Pad saidsomething was inside him, eating him up.

And I figured it out.Jared! No!But they was already out the door. I raced after, hop

ing I could save my little brothers life.

Pa and Jared were almost back at the spaceship bythe time I caught up to them. Right away, I grabbed Jaredand tried to pull him back to the house.

Get away from him, Jared! That aint Pa!But Jared werent having none of it. Leave off, Ben!

he said, yanking his arm outa my grasp and running backto Pas side.

Jared, wait!But he werent waiting for nobody. His Ma done died,

so he was latching onto his Pa. End of story.Except I was pretty sure it werent Pa.A look over at the barn confirmed what Id been fear

ing. Pa, my Pa, the real Pa, was still hanging from the wallof the barn. He werent moving. He was dead. My Pa wasdead.

Jared! Look at the Barn! Look at the god damnedbarn!

Maybe he heard me, maybe he didnt. Turned out it

39

didnt matter cause right then the flames caught up withthat side of the barn and it went up like it was made ofMatch Light Charcoal. For a brief second, Pas body erupted in a final blaze of glory, then it was cinders and ashes.

Weirdest thing was, just before it done burned up, Iswear Pa looked flat. A limp bag of skin flapping againstthe wood.

Daddy? Whats happening? Daddy!Jareds cry shook me outa my head. He stood next to

the spaceship staring down into the gully and I had a sickfeeling I knew what he was seeing. That Pa thing mustveset Mas body down in that goop to save her and Jareddidnt like what the goop was doing to his dead mother.

I cussed myself out for dropping my shotgun like ababy earlier after I blew the damn aliens head off. I dontknow what happened to Pas gun, and I didnt have timeto run back to the house and get one of the hunting riflesout of my folks closet. I had to get Jared out of there before he done got saved too.

Jared! I screamed, kicking myself into overdrive.Jared, get the Hell away! It aint Pa! Jared!

But he was staring at something in the gully like hisworld was being rocked. I finally reached him andgrabbed his arm, but before I could pull him away I madethe mistake of looking down, too.

The Pa Thing stood in the middle of a big puddle ofgreen goop. At his feet lay Mas body, or what was left ofit. She was floppy and all elasticlooking. Mad had hugebreasts, wed always snickered at that, but now they wasflat as pancakes, just like the rest of her. Just like Pasbody before it burned up. Just like the space aliens body.

Next to it rose something straight outa my nightmares.It was a goopcovered figure that was taking Mas shaperight in front of our eyes.

Holy Mother of God, I whispered.Shes being saved, Ben. Were saving your mother.I may not alwaysve paid attention in church, but Im

pretty sure Preacher aint never said God saves you byturning you into a goop monster.

The Hell, Pa? I said automatically, forgetting it wer

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ent Pa standing in front of me.By now, Ma or Goop Ma was almost fullyformed.

Hell, she, it, even had clothes on just like the ones Madworn to dinner.

Mommy? asked Jared, all desperate like.Im here, baby, the thing said through its fat lips.

Im right here.One thing Ill say for my folks, they didnt raise no

dummies. Jared may have been ten and totally Mommyobsessed, but he werent buying it.

Youre not my mother! he screamed, pointing a finger at her like he was accusing her in a court of law.Youre an abomination!

Dont say that, honey, said Goop Ma, actually sounding hurt.

Pa, or whatever it was, nodded. You just need to besaved, son. Thats all.

Ah, Hell no. I grabbed Jared for the third time and thistime he didnt put up no fuss. We turned tail and ran backto the house. Jared to get away, me to grab another gun.

But two steps was all we got before Pa landed in frontof us. He must have jumped from the gully and damn ifhe didnt leap like a gazelle. I skidded to a stop and lostmy footing, falling on my ass. Jared remained standing.

Run, Jared! I called out.Theres no need to be afraid, Son, said the Pa Thing.

Were gonna be a family again. Then he turned hiswobbly face to me and smiled. All of us.

Jared was having none of it. Youre not my family!he yelled, his face all red and puffy with rage. You killedmy family!

I improved your family, answered the thing pretending to be Pa. I can improve you, too. All of you. Everywhere.

The color drained from my face. Everywhere? Likemore than just our farm? The Hell? Was this a damn invasion?

I scrambled to my feet. Screw you.He frowned at me, like somehow my language was

more disturbing than how hed done killed my folks. You

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need to show some respect for your elders, young man.He took a step towards me, clenching his fists. I was

ready to fight him, if only to give Jared a chance to run,but my brother had other ideas. He pulled a small shardof bloodstained glass out of his pocket and ran at the PaThing.

Die, you god damnedHe didnt get any farther. Pa whipped around, bashed

Jared in the gut with the back of his arm, and sent himflying through the air towards the burning barn.

Jared!He landed in a crumpled heap at the edge of the

flames and didnt get up.The Hell! I couldnt believe anything could toss him

that far like that. Whatever this thing was, it was stupidstrong.

He will be saved, said Pa. We will all be saved.Something got in me. Not the goop, I just mean, like,

an anger I aint never known before. I didnt have noweapon, no gun, and this thing had just flicked the backof its hand and knocked Jared eighty feet into the air, butI didnt care.

I jumped him.We went down together. I think he was as surprised as

I was or I never wouldve got him to the ground. Butthere I was on top of him punching and punching witheverything I had.

It was like I was punching sand.I landed solid blows, but his body just sort of took it. I

smashed him squarely on the nose with my right fist andit kinda sunk in a little while his cheeks bulged for a bit.By the time I was coming back with my left, his facedshifted back into place.

The Hell are you? I screamed into his face while myfists kept up their pointless pounding.

He smiled beneath my blows, lips puffing out and getting smushed around all the while. Im your destiny,Ben.

Next thing I knew I was flying through the air. In theinstant I was airborne, I realized it werent Pa had flung

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me, itd been a fullyformed Goop Ma. Shed come up behind and yanked me off her Hubby.

I crashed against the wreckage of the spaceship andfell facefirst into the puddle of goop.

Instantly I could feel it seeping into my ears and upmy nose and trying to shove its way into my mouth. I shotout of there and slapped the junk off of my face, spittingand pulling the junk out of my hair and eyes. It kindasorta tried to hold on, suctioning onto my skin, but it wasa weak hold and I was able to get it off me but now I wasfeeling dizzy and I totally freaked out. Had the stuff gotten inside me already? Was I being saved right then andthere? I jerked back and tripped over something, fallingon my butt. Again the goop came at me, but this time Iwas ready and I scrambled up the side of gully and out ofits reach.

Only then did I notice what Id tripped over.My shotgun.It lay there, covered in goop, right were Id dropped it

way back when this all started. In the back of my mind,some part of my brain figured out that it was still loaded.We kept two shells in them at all times and Id only shotonce.

There was a shot left.You dont get it, do you Ben?Pa was right there again. Standing on the other side of

the gully.Im still your father. Im just better. New and im

proved.The Hell, Pa? Youre a damn alien!Do I look like an alien to you?You aint right! Ma aint right!Your mothers alive, Ben! She werent alive ten

minutes ago but now shes back! You got your Ma back!You got your Pa back! If Jareds hurt, Mall save him andwell get him back, too.

It was Pas voice, using Pas words. I could close myeyes and believe, if I wanted. But looking at him, seeinghis body jiggle when he moved. Maybe he was my Pa. Buthe werent human.

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Youre the Devil, I said.And then he sighed. Like maybe hed been hoping I

was gonna agree with him and just step down into thegoop. But now he knew that wasnt happening. I had,maybe, two seconds before he plum killed my ass. I knewwhat I had to do.

But maybe I continued. MaybeHe stiffened and looked at me, hope in his eyes.I took a step towards the edge of the gully. Maybe

you.. and Ma.. I meanI took another step. I swear he held his breath, though

I wasnt sure if he was even breathing. Maybe what,Son?

I was at the edge of the gully and I stared down at thegoop spread out before me. Maybe youre right.

I dropped myself down into the goop, splashing a littlein my wake. Right away it sort of sucked its way up myshins, making my skin shiver. But I held steady andlooked into Pas eyes. Cause they were his eyes.

Does it hurt? Getting saved?He let out that breath and shook his head. Not at all,

Son. It dont hurt at all.He beamed at me, and right then he was my Pa again

and it felt great. Pa was proud of me. The green goop wascrawling up my hips and my Pa was proud. I love you,Pa, I said.

I love you too, Ben.Then I bent down, grabbed the shotgun, and blasted a

hole in his chest.He screamed like a wounded coyote and shoved his

hands into the wound, but the goop was all draining outof him and it wasnt pretty. I dropped the gun and leapedaway from the gully, pulling myself out of the goop beforeit had a chance to get inside me. When I turned back, Pashead had pretty much deflated, as had his shoulders. Hisarms hung limp and flabby and his knees buckled and hefinally fell over, green goop pouring out of the hole Idjust made in him.

My first thought was wondering if he was just gonnaform back up, but something told me that werent how it

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worked. The goopfilled alien hadnt come back. Maybethe stuff needed to eat up a real person and then usewhat it ate to come alive. But shoot a gooper and therewas nothing but goop.

At least thats what I prayed.WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, BEN!Goop Ma was furious. Truth be told, Id done forgotten

all about her. She stood in front of what was left of thebarn, holding a twitching Jared in her arms, the fire behind her making her look like shed just stepped straightout of Hell.

I didnt know what to do. I didnt have my gun anymore, and it was empty anyways. Pas gun wouldve had acouple of shots in it, but Hell if I knew where that was.

So I just stood there like an idiot, staring at the monster pretending to be my mother.

You murdered your father! Youre going to burn inHell for that, Ben! In Hell!

I was gonna tell her he werent my father. I was gonnatell her she werent my mother. I was gonna tell her thatmaybe we was already in Hell.

But thats when the propane tank exploded.Standing right in front of the barn, Ma never stood a

chance. In fact, she was sort of a second explosion. Thepropane blast pulverized her and sent that damned greengoop out in all directions.

I saw the first explosion, saw the second, and then theblast hit me and I didnt see nothing no more.

I woke up for the second time in, what, an hour? Myhead hurt like nobodys business, but I figured that was agood thing because it meant I was alive. And probablystill human.

Something was jamming into my back and when Ireached behind me, I was stunned to find Pas shotgun.

That made me think of Pa, who Id shot. Which mademe think of Ma, whod gotten blown up. Which made methink of Jared.

Dear God, Jared.Mad been holding him when she exploded. There was

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no way hed survived that, even if he hadnt already beendead. My family was dead. Every last one of them.

I waited for tears to come, but they didnt. Instead Istood up, cradling Pas gun in my hands. Eyes empty.Heart dead to the world.

Then I saw movement.Jared? Jared, that you? I ran forward, expecting... I

dont know. A response. Something. Anything.Something shambled out in the fields, moving slowly

but steadily away from the spaceship, the barn, the house,all of it. Something not quite right.

I ran, shotgun out. No way was I gonna let anythingget away from all this.

It werent hard to catch up to whatever was out in thefield. It lurched forward in spurts, as if injured. Truthtold, I pretty much knew what I was gonna find before Igot there but even so, the sight plum beat me all to heck.

Jared.He stopped, his body jiggling and settling as it stood in

the grass.Turn around. Do it.I raised my gun up as Jared I couldnt stop thinking

about it as Jared turned to face me. His face was halfformed, with the left side all droopy like a slightlymeltedcandle. His right leg started normallike at his hip butslimmed down to into some kinda demented toothpicklike thing at the ankle. It didnt have a foot attached. Icould see he didnt have no fingers on his hands, neither. Iguess there hadnt been enough of him left after the propane tank blew to build a complete Jared out of goop.

Are you going to kill me, too, Ben?I stared at that face. That disfigured, horrific face

mocking the memory of my little brother. The right side ofit was sad, expecting the worst. The left side was, wellHell, it was a nightmare.

Like you killed Ma and Pa? he went on.I didnt have nothing to do with that tank exploding!

That was your damn ship crashing through our barn!Kinda silly to be arguing that it werent my fault Goop

Ma had gotten blown to bits, but Jared had me all con

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fused.I dont want to die, Ben.Damn it if the thing didnt start to cry. The Hell? Did

goop have feelings? I lifted the shotgun and took aim.Youre already dead, Jared.

Please Ben, it sniffed. Please dont kill me. Im yourlittle brother. Youre supposed to protect me, not shootme!

Youre not Jared! My hands were shaking almost asmuch as my voice.

He just stared at me through his one good eye, waiting. It was Jareds face, Jareds voice. Hell, it was sortawearing Jareds clothes. But I knew it wasnt him. I knewit was something alien. Something evil. Something that, ifI didnt stop it, was gonna go somewhere else and spreadout into the world. This shell of my little brother was thefront line in an invasion. And I was the only thing standing in its way.

My finger tensed on the trigger. One pull and Id popits bubblehead and be done with it all. One pull and theabomination thatd killed my entire family would begone.

Please, Ben.God help me, but I couldnt do it. I couldnt shoot my

little brother.God help me.God help us all.

David Neilsen describes himself as a moderatelysuccessfulscreenwriter who had one feature produced straighttoDVD andalso optioned a TV pilot to 20th Century FOX. He tends to writeeither dark, scifi/horror or happy YA fantasy. Sometimes both. VisitDavid on the web at : http://neilsenparty.com

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Pickles Cane was a skinner, the lowest of the low. Hispartner, Babes Bullock, was born into the gang, so he wasa knocker, one notch up the ladder.

You see them? Babes asked and went to work withhis hammer and chisel to loosen a fender, which Picklesyanked off. Together, they skinned the robot truck the salvage gang had chased down and disabled. Rods, gears,belts, the allimportant batteries: everything was taken,even the metal panels that the crew called skin.

People, Babes said. With the trucks.Pickles had never seen anything but semitractors,

pickups, and other smart wheelies, but Babes claimed hesaw people living with the robot herds. When Picklesonce asked the crew chief if Babes was right, he wasbeaten with a strip of rubber until he was a blubberingmuddle in the dirt.

Nobody talks about that, kid! the wrangler chief toldhim. Especially not some 14 year old. You got sold to usto work. Thats all ygotta know.

After that, Pickles let Babes talk and never paid attention, tried not to ask questions.

Dilapidated buses with concrete blocks for wheelsringed Bug City, protecting it from the truck herds thatruled the plains. At the city gate, the crew registered theirbuggies and bikes with the Chamber of Commerce andleft two men behind to guard their vehicles.

Youre all haulers now, the chief shouted, pushingand punching his crewmen. Even Moms were drafted tocart salvage, and everyone sang as they marched into BugCity, where craftsman, tavern keepers, and gambling denowners awaited them.

This is your share. The paymaster gave Pickles several pennies while Babes counted his steel coins and

WRANGLER BOYDavid Castlewitz

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bounced up and down on the balls of his feet.Lets buy new shoes, Pickles suggested, pointing at

his worn tirerubber footwear.Babes tossed an arm across Pickles thin shoulders.

Lets enjoy ourselves, he said, and steered for a tinroofed building.

Two beers were all that Pickles could buy. One forhimself and one for Babes, who claimed it was traditionalfor the younger partner to treat the older. When thosebeers had been consumed, Babes slid off his barstool andwandered among the tables where crewmates andstrangers sang and drank and told tales of pursuit andcapture.

You drinkin or watchin or whatin? the bartenderasked Pickles. Order another or get off the stool.

Pickles moved away from the bar and several boysrushed in to take the narrow space hed occupied. They,too, spent their pennies. Catching up to Babes, Picklesoverheard him talking about humans among the wildtrucks, tending to them, sleeping in their cabs and helpingwith repairs.

He your friend? a man asked Pickles, the questionborne on waves of sour breath. You best shut im up.Nobody wants to hear them tales.

Pickles stood on his toes to look for Babes curly headof hair bobbing up and down.

You need to stop telling those stories, Pickles saidwhen he found him.

They gots to know, Babes said.Lets get out of here. Youre pissing people off.

They feasted on meat, eggs and bread the next morning, courtesy of the common fund. It was a breakfastPickles hadnt enjoyed since his father sold him that summer. Growing up, hed savored sumptuous morning feaststwice a week. Like his brothers and sisters, he assumedhis father was a rich man who cared about him. New siblings, some of whom were brought by their mothers whothen stayed with dad, arrived on a regular basis. It was a

49

happy home, Pickles remembered, with lots of toys, aminimum of chores, and dozens of brothers and sistersfor playmates.

After breakfast, the crew marched out of Bug City andreclaimed their vehicles, paying a storage fee and a tax tocover damages from the brawls.

Pickles saw a few new faces, mostly youngsters likehim, but also some men with leathery skin and scars fromold wounds. Some of the crew, he realized, were missing.

Probably stayin back to take up the city life, Babestold him.

You can do that?After twenty years? Sure. Get old enough, you can do

what you want.Pickles pictured a new ambition. Put in his twenty

years, find a town like Bug City, and retire. Become amiddleman dealing in car parts. Or open a tavern. Orlearn how to gamble.

A section chief slapped Pickles across the side of hishead, admonishing him. Sharpen up! Stop smilin.

Move out, the crew chief bellowed. Assistantsechoed the call. Motorbikes rumbled to life. Buggiessputtered and rolled forward.

Stop!An armored jeep with treads for rear wheels clattered

from the city gate. Its roofmounted guards wielded rifles,and outriders on the running boards carried clubs. A motorbike with a sidecar followed, with a jumpsuited manholding a round black hat firm on his head, his silveryhair whipping his shoulder epaulets.

When the sidecar stopped, the guards fanned out oneither side of the man in the jump suit. President Ticks,the crew chief said, doffing his peaked cap.

You got a kid named Babes? Ticks asked.Whatcha want with one of mine?I want to see him. And his buddy.Pickles shuddered. Someone pushed him out of form

ation. A hand gripped his wrist. A wrangler dragged himto the city president. Babes joined him.

You the boys that saw the people? President Ticks

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asked.We saw them, Babes said.Not me, Pickles objected.Where? Ticks demanded. When?Babes pointed a thumb back over one shoulder. Out

there.I know its out there, Ticks fumed. Where exactly?Pickles looked around at the crewmen, the chief and

his subalterns. The chief pressed his pale lips tight together, his small eyes steady on either side of his lopsidednose. Babes beamed, quickly answering the questions putto him, pointing with delight at the unseen herds in thedistance.

Heres what youre gonna do, Ticks said. You findthose people and bring them here. Ticks gripped Babesround chin. The boys laughing eyes dimmed. This onestays. Ticks looked at Pickles. You find the people andIll let him go.

Me? Pickles said.Find them, Ticks said. Or your buddy dies.Babes joked with the men taking him away, but Pickles

detected uncertainty in the boys big gray eyes. A womanin the Moms Circle broke free of those holding her back.Babbling, she dropped to her knees when the jeep holdingBabes jerked to a start and returned to Bug City.

Idiot, the crew chief said, spitting. He raged atPickles. Idiot! For letting him talk like that.

Me? I never saw any people out there.You better remember what Babes told you. I aint los

ing him because youre an idiot.

That first night after leaving Bug City Pickles reportedto the Leaders Tent to answer questions. When did Babesfirst talk of seeing people mingling with the trucks? Whatdid you see. Where did you see it?

I didnt see anything, was Pickles constant reply. Idont remember where we were that first time.

You farm kids, the crew chief complained.He never showed them to me, Pickles clarified, and

prepared for a punch in the gut.

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Crumbles, the head plug puller, stayed the chiefshand. He wont remember nothing if you hit him all thetime.

The chief spat into the fire.Crumbles drew a map in the tents dirt floor. Fluid

bubbled at a corner of his mouth and dribbled from theinsect bites around his ears.

This is where we are, Crumbles said. This is wherewe got you. He tapped a part of the map to indicateHubs, the town where Pickles was raised. And we wentthis way afterwards. He drew a line that zigzagged fromthe top of the map to the bottom.

Pickles touched the top of the map. I think we werehere when Babes told me about the people.

North? Crumbles studied his map. Kips Place ishere. He smiled, his small teeth making him look like anogre but his weepy eyes casting him as a harmless oldman. You need to just listen up, Pickles. Listen andlearn.

The chief pointed the crew north and dispatchedscouts to search ahead. Soon, reports came in that another crew had been spotted, so clubs and pointed steel rodswere distributed. That night, extra guards were posted.The next day two scouts escorted a representative of theforeign crew into camp and he was invited to stay as adinner guest of the Leaders Circle. Pickles, relegated to acorner of the tent where attendants and Moms ate,listened closely to the crew leaders conversation. Hewanted to follow Crumbles advice: listen and learn.

Spotted bandits, the foreigner explained. Hunchedover the communal plate, he dipped hairy hands into abowl of peppered meat.

How big? the chief asked.Stripped and searched before dinner, the stranger had

joked while they probed his clothing and his body. Hisgood humor prevailed through dinner as well.

How big? he asked, rhetorically. Two hundred menand women, not counting any kids. Theyre preying onsmaller crews. So were putting together a posse. You in

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with us?Cant, the chief said. We got a mission. President

Ticks has one of my boys.One of your boys? The strangers long face paled.A couple of kids saw people with the trucks.The stranger nodded several times. Ticks lost his fam