EnEmE: Fall Of Man (8 page)

Banyan levelled his tiny weapon and stepped into the hallway, standing in the line of fire, and began releasing a stream of bullets.

Drywall flew as most of his bullets hit the opposite wall, spreading in a neat line down the hallway. The tail end of the burst managed to hit a fire extinguisher mounted on the wall, just as the final armored gunman was passing it as he sneaked down the hall toward us.

The extinguisher exploded, covering the soldier in thick white foam. He started flailing and scrambling blindly, too choked to think of wiping his visor clean.

“WAFFLE IRON!” Banyan screamed as he ran into the hallway in a roaring rage toward his adversary Even though he was out of ammo, he kept pulling the trigger.

Banyan slid and skidded through the thick foam for the last several feet before colliding with his enemy with a loud thud. After a brief struggle, Banyan finally knocked the soldier to the ground before ripping off the man’s helmet while standing over him.

“FUCK! TOUCAN! ORANGE! FAGGOT!” Banyan screamed as he beat the soldier’s head in with his own helmet.

By the time Freeman and I were able to pull him away, the soldier’s head was an unrecognizable pulp. Out of words, Banyan sobbed heavily as I pried the helmet from his hands to discover that he had gripped the helmet so tightly that his own hands had become deeply lacerated.

I slowly led him down the adjacent corridor that had offered Freeman protection, looking for a restroom where I could clean up and stitch his wounds. He sat lost in his own grief, silent for the first time since I’d met him.

As I looked at him sadly, my mind searching for words, I began to hear voices from the main corridor. I quickly recognized one as Hauer’s.

Banyan and I cautiously exited the restroom, working our way down the hallway and to the opening where we could see Freeman and Hauer conversing. We arrived just in time to hear the end of Hauer’s story.

“…and then this guy knocks out one of those armored bastards with his own empty rifle, set a plastique charge and drags my ass down the tunnel. The charge explodes just as what’s left of those fuckers are coming and blows them all to hell before we find the manhole that exits to the parking garage.”

Hauer reached out and wrapped a proud, thankful arm around the man who saved him in a manly one armed hug, pulling him into view.

I stared at his tanned skin, his dirty baby blue suit jacket and his frosted tips for what felt like a full minute before I could speak.

“Max?” I managed.

I looked up into the dark angry eyes and thought I might wet myself.

There, staring at me in a matching pink workout suit was undoubtedly Lacy, my psychiatrist’s receptionist, but with large, pupil-less black eyes, lids pulled tightly glaring at me. She was obviously an occupied host.

“Ha...wha…?” I stammered.

“Shuttup!” she hissed at me, in nearly a whisper.

She ducked past the edge of the window, hiding from the host soldier that peered into the window. From my vantage point I could see him, but he couldn’t see me. He looked around inquisitively, as if the sound of our interaction might have caught his attention.

After he passed, Lacy peered out the window, looking around with her eyes following the host soldier as he rounded the corner of the house.

“Shit!” she grumbled under her breath.

She then quickly strode across the dining room, through the kitchen and toward the stairs to the basement.

I looked around, startled that no one else seemed to think it was strange that an infected host was in their midst. Alvarez looked just as confused as I was, but the others looked away awkwardly. I scrambled up and followed Lacy downstairs.

In the darkened basement she crept along, toward the basement stairwell where Alvarez and I entered. I sneaked up behind her, gripping my rifle, preparing to fire at the first sign of hostility. As I crouched behind the ping-pong table I decided to confront her.

I said, “Hey, just what the hell…”

“SHUT UP!” She snarled back, interrupting my question.

Okay, I’d waste her at the NEXT sign of hostility.

As she moved towards the doors, I heard footsteps. It was apparent that our sounds had caught the attention of the host scout, whose armored legs I could see coming down the stairs through the window. I began to worry.

As he approached the door, Lacy stepped in front of the window, standing upright and rigid, like a soldier at attention. She held the gaze of the surprised soldier for a few moments before reaching out and opening the door to let him in.

The armored host soldier walked in while Lacy held the door. He began to say something to her, but I couldn’t make out the language.

Now I was very uneasy and was about to shout out in protest, raising my gun with the intent to take out the soldier and the apparently traitorous Lacy-host. Before I could, Lacy reached out, gripping the soldier’s helmet and snapping his neck in mid-sentence.

I was amazed into stupefaction. Could the last thirty minutes of my life have been any more surprising?

The woman I knew as Lacy looked around, peeking outside to make sure there were no witnesses before slowly and quietly closing the door. She then turned, grabbed the dead soldier’s arms, and dragged his body to the nearest corner of the room. She left the corpse resting next to a pile of tarps and I wondered how many other dead soldiers were under there.

Lacy looked out the window again to make sure that the coast was clear and when she turned I stepped out from my spot, weapon drawn, to confront her about just what the hell had happened.

“Just what is the hell was that all about?” I asked.

“Be quiet and follow me upstairs,” she said. “It’s time we explained this to everyone.”

She confidently marched up the stairs without a second thought. I followed hesitantly behind her, gun drawn, reminding myself not to look at the shapely ass in front of me. it felt wrong. . . that was an alien ass now.

We joined Alvarez and the rest of the human refugees in the pantry. Lacy looked at me solemnly.

Alvarez quickly made our introductions with the group. Aside from the two of us, Earl, and Lacy, there was Braden, an 18-year-old kid who had fought his way out of Hollywood through his own family, and got himself to the 'burbs before the shit really hit the fan. He had to hide in Earl’s shed, where Lacy had found him. He was a medium build, jock- looking kid, but didn’t have that typical jock chip on his shoulder, so I took him for the more sensitive type. That could be because he had withdrawn after having to chop at his parents with an axe to escape.

There was a young blond girl named Wendy. She told me she was six. Her face was still beaming with youth and vigour despite being huddled in this pantry. It made me think that the group had worked together to make sure that she was the best taken care of among them.

Wendy’s mother Unus was very thin and had a short black pixie cut, the exact opposite from her daughter. Unlike her daughter, I could tell that she was feeling the stress more than the others, but looked at her daughter with love.

Then there was Bill. Bill was an insurance salesman who had been parked outside Earl’s house when the drone began to take over the neighborhood. He was the first survivor Earl had taken in, nervously ushering him inside after Bill stood in the street watching a tank roll over his new Benz as he was walking towards it.

After the introductions, the thing I’d once known as Lacy turned to us and spoke.

“I’m trusting you, because despite the obvious mark of our people, you are for some reason helping these human soldiers,” she said, looking at Alvarez. “And you are obviously uncomfortable with our people’s standard method of operation.”

Alvarez and I looked at each other, equally confused. Before I could get a word out to ask what she was talking about, the host Lacy continued.

“Although I was born here, I am not of this Earth. My home planet is forty billion light years away and I’ve never set foot on it. I’ve nonetheless enjoyed its breathtaking desert vistas at sunset and felt the soft heat of the East breeze on the plains. I have seen the massive fabrication engines and worked the dials. This is thanks to the hive mind shared between my people. I am a member of the Tenachai, and you are our food.”

“Shit! Food? Us? Whatchoo talkin’ about, girl?” said Earl.

“Be quiet and let me talk and I will explain all that you need to know,” said the host Lacy, glaring at him.

“Okay, I’ll shut up; man can’t ask a question in his own damn house…” Earl mumbled, before Lacy’s glare made him uncomfortable enough to trail off into silence.

“Our people come from a planet with amazing beauty and technology, but we have outgrown our planet. Originally we left the planet to find more space for our people to stretch out, to allow our population to continue to grow. There is no way we would condone a culling of our own proud race.

“As we discovered planets, some were plentiful with food, all manner of animals that we could eat. In some cases, our massive ships arrived on planets where we had to seed and cultivate the livestock, populating the planet with animals from other planets we had already settled, or in the most remote locations, leaving the protoplasmic building blocks for so our people could return in the future to harvest what had flourished.

“Eventually we came to planets already inhabited with intelligent life. At first we avoided them, or made contact, attempting to negotiate with the native inhabitants. Eventually we attempted to network with less evolved species, but that became inefficient toward the goals of Tenachai survival and expansion. The proud race that embarked into the stars for survival had turned into conquerors in less than a few thousand years.”

Lacy looked around at the group with inhuman eyes, a hint of shame passing across her face before she continued.

“Despite our approach, we believed that it was all for the good of our people. The only thing that gave us pause wasn’t the slaughtering of entire civilizations for food, but the effort and resources expended in doing so.

“In an effort to make the assimilation process more efficient, our scientists developed a procedure to alter the very DNA of the native species in order to plant our own biological drones within the native population. It was a very simple procedure for our scientists, who had mastered every aspect of biological sciences eons ago.

“We would simply alter the DNA of a small breeding group, so that all offspring descending from that group would genetically bear a biological drone deep inside of their own bodies. The group would also be altered to be resistant to our own biologically engineered viruses that we would release into the environment. Over time these viruses kill any bloodline that doesn’t bear our genetic mark. This ensures that none of our livestock pose a resistance to us.

“When the native population is bombarded with our radio frequency, it triggers the biological seed into action, maturing and attaching to the central nervous system of the host, quickly seizing it and turning it into an obedient member of our ranks.

“I myself am a member of the Tenachai drone class. My name is Kexa-183.”

“So you mean to tell me that you been eatin’ your own people?” Earl interrupted again.

The thing inhabiting Lacy’s mind breathed heavily, but seemed to reply with a little more patience this time.

“No, that’s not how it works…our society is based on a caste system. We’re big on that.” She explained.

“We have a pyramid structure with several levels and classes. The elite class rules at the top; they are the example of Tenachai physical perfection. Below them are the science officers, the people who engineer and manipulate our DNA for improvement. The Science officer breeding lines tend to be thinner and more intelligent, concentrating on brain power over physical power.

“Below that are the Gammas, Tenachai with a breeding line that has been genetically altered to produce massive hulking brutes with large intimidating bodies to strike fear into enemies. Don’t let their huge bodies fool you; they are not dumb, but in fact master tacticians who lead our armies as would your Earth generals.

“Then we have Heralds who do our advanced intergalactic scouting, And finally, our foot soldier class, who comprise a large portion of our armies and fighting forces for defence and occupation of new territories. The genetic manipulation of other species created a new drone caste to our system. That’s what I am. The drone grows and remains in stasis inside the host body until it is triggered by Tenachai technology. We are the first wave of invasion. We serve to quell the majority of any resistance by the native population before it starts.”

The group continued to look at her slack jawed, not having a clue what she was talking about.

“The drone class, when awakened, seizes control of the host, helping to convert the rest of the populace and deliver our food source directly to our supply ships. Once a supply ship is full it returns to one of the planets in our empire. During the journey the host bodies are given a vial of chemical isotopes which isolates the host body’s brain and nervous system. It severs the cerebral bond, forcing the drone’s psyche to retreat back into the seed body inside the host.”

“So you can remove the seed? You can reverse the cerebral bond and bring back the host that’s been infected by the drone?” I burst out, excited at the hope that if the people I knew and loved had been turned, that there may be some cure.

The Lacy-host glowered at me, running out of patience with the undesired interruptions.

“NO. The bonding process severs the tissues connecting the various lobes. The drone tissues create a bond that enable them to control the host body, but once it’s removed, only the most basic of life functions continue. Host bodies are left as vegetables, personalities completely removed. When the harvest crop arrives, the drone bodies are surgically extracted, birthing them physically into the outside world for the first time. Drones that have completed their mission successfully are highly respected in our society and allowed to retire to any Tenachai planet they choose. From there the mindless host bodies are collected and processed for consumption.”

“Consumption? It’s just that easy for you to see murdering millions of people like that? What make you and your people think you got the right?” asked Earl abruptly.

The thing I once knew as Lacy responded, calmly, with a blank expression, almost as if she were surprised that she was explaining something that was plainly obvious.