Invasion (37 page)

“Heavens no,” Beau said. “Every hundred million Earth years or so, a probe would return to reawaken the virus and see what form of life had evolved.”

“And the virus consciousness didn’t remain?” Cassy asked.

“The virus itself remained,” Beau said. “But you are right, the consciousness was allowed to lapse. The organisms were always so inconvenient.”

“When was the last stopover?” Cassy asked.

“Just about a hundred million Earth years ago,” Beau said. “It was a disastrous visit. The Earth had become completely infested with large, reptilian creatures who preyed on each other cannibalistically.”

“You mean dinosaurs?” Cassy asked.

“Yes, I believe that is what you have labeled them,” Beau said. “But whatever the name, it was a totally unacceptable situation for consciousness. So the infestation was terminated. However, genetic adjustments were made so that the reptilians would die out to allow other species to evolve.”

“Like human beings,” Cassy suggested.

“Exactly,” Beau said. “These are wonderfully versatile bodies and reasonably sized brains. The downside is the emotions.”

Cassy let out a short laugh in spite of herself. The concept of an alien culture capable of ranging around the galaxy having trouble with human emotion was preposterous.

“It’s true,” Beau said. “Primacy of the emotions translates to an exaggerated importance of the individual, which is contrary to the collective good. From my dual perspective it is amazing humans have accomplished as much as they have. In a species in which each individual is striving to maximize his circumstance above and beyond basic needs, war and strife are inevitable. Peace becomes the aberration.”

“How many other species in the galaxy has the virus taken over?” Cassy asked.

“Thousands,” Beau said. “Whenever we find a suitable envelope.”

Cassy continued to stare out into the distance. She didn’t want to look at Beau because his appearance was so disturbing that it made it difficult to think, and she wanted to think. She couldn’t help but believe that the more she knew the better chance she had of avoiding infection and staying herself. And she was learning a lot. The longer she’d talked with Beau the less she was hearing the human side and the more she was hearing the alien side.

“Where do you come from?” Cassy asked suddenly.

“Where is our home planet?” Beau repeated as if he’d
not heard her question. He hesitated, trying to draw upon the collective information available to him. But the answer wasn’t forthcoming. “I guess I don’t know. I don’t even know what our original physical form was. Strange! The question has never come up.”

“Does it ever occur to the virus that it is somehow wrong to take over an organism that already has a consciousness?” Cassy asked.

“Not when we are offering something far better,” Beau said.

“How can you be so sure?” Cassy asked.

“Simple,” Beau said. “I refer back to your history. Look at what you have done to each other and to this planet during your short reign as the dominant creature.”

Cassy nodded. Again there was some sense in what she was hearing.

“Come with me, Cassy,” Beau said. “There is something I want to show you.” Beau went to the door leading to the bedroom and opened it.

Cassy made herself turn around. She steeled herself against Beau’s appearance, which she found almost as shocking as when she’d first seen him. He was holding the door for her. He gestured and said, “It’s downstairs.”

They descended the main stairs. In contrast with the tranquility upstairs, the first floor was filled with busy, smiling people. No one paid any attention to Beau and Cassy. He took her to the ballroom, where the level of activity was almost frantic. It was difficult to comprehend how so many people could work together.

The floor, walls, and ceiling of the enormous room were covered with a maze of wiring. In the middle of the
space was a huge structure that appeared to Cassy to be of an otherworldly design and purpose. At its core was a huge steel cylinder that looked vaguely reminiscent of a very large MRI machine. Steel girders angled off in various directions. This superstructure supported what looked to Cassy like equipment for the storage and transmission of high-voltage electricity. A command control center was off to the side, containing a bewildering number of monitors, dials, and switches.

At first Beau didn’t speak. He just allowed Cassy to be overwhelmed by the scene.

“It is nearly finished,” Beau said finally.

“What is it?” Cassy asked.

“It is what we call a Gateway,” Beau said. “It is a formal connection to other worlds that we have infested.”

“What do you mean, connection?” Cassy asked. “Is this some communication device?”

“No,” Beau said. “Transportation, not communication.”

Cassy swallowed. Her throat had gone dry. “You mean other species from other planets that you, I mean, the virus has infected. They will be able to come here. To Earth!”

“And we there,” Beau said triumphantly. “The Earth will henceforth be linked to these other worlds. Its isolation is over. It will truly become part of the galaxy.”

Cassy felt suddenly weak. The horror of the Earth being invaded by countless alien creatures was now added to the personal fear she had for herself. Combining this with the frantic swirl of nightmarish activity around her and her physical, emotional, and mental exhaustion, Cassy swooned. The room began to spin and darken, and she fainted.

When she came to, Cassy had no idea how long she’d been unconscious. The first thing she was aware of was a slight nauseousness, but it quickly passed after a shiver. The next thing she sensed was that her right hand was balled into a fist and held firmly.

Cassy’s eyes blinked open. She was on the floor in the busy ballroom looking up at a portion of the futuristic, jury-rigged contraption that was allegedly capable of transporting alien creatures to Earth.

“You’re going to be okay,” Beau said.

Cassy shuddered. It was the cliché that was always told to the patient no matter what the prospective prognosis. Cassy let her eyes fall toward Beau. He was kneeling next to her, clutching her fist closed. That was when Cassy realized there was something in her palm, something heavy and cold.

“No,” Cassy cried. She tried to pull her hand free, but Beau would not let it go.

“Please, Beau,” Cassy cried.

“Don’t be afraid,” Beau said soothingly. “You will be content.”

“Beau, if you love me don’t do this,” Cassy said.

“Cassy, calm down,” Beau said. “I do love you.”

“If you have any control over your actions, let go of my hand,” Cassy said. “I want to be myself.”

“You will be,” Beau said assuringly. “And much more. I do have control. I’m doing what I want. I want the power that has been given me, and I want you.”

“Ahhh!” Cassy cried.

Beau immediately let go of her hand. Cassy sat up and with an exclamation of disgust threw the black disc away
from herself. It skidded on a small patch of floor before thumping into a bundle of wires.

Cassy grabbed her injured hand with the other and looked at the slowly enlarging drop of blood at the base of her index finger. She’d been stung, and the crushing realization of what that meant caused her to collapse back onto the floor. A single tear rolled out from beneath each eyelid and ran off on either side of her face. She was now one of them.

9:15
A.M.

THE GAS STATION LOOKED LIKE A MOVIE SET IN THE
nineteen-thirties or the cover of an old
Saturday Evening Post
magazine. There were two old skinny gas pumps that resembled miniature skyscrapers with art deco round tops. In the middle of the tops an image of a red Pegasus still could be discerned despite the peeling paint.

The building behind the pumps was of the same vintage. It defied belief it was still standing. Over the last half century the sand blowing in off the desert had scoured the clapboards of any vestige of paint. The only thing that was reasonably intact was the old asphalt shingle roof. The screen door minus its screens blew back and forth in the hot breeze: a standing tribute to the longevity of its hardware.

Pitt pulled the van over to the side of the road opposite the dilapidated station so that they could look at it.

“What a Godforsaken place,” Sheila commented, wiping the sweat out of her eyes. The desert sun was just beginning to give evidence of its noonday power.

They were on an essentially abandoned two-lane road that at one time had been a major route across the Arizona desert. But the interstate twenty miles to the south had changed that. Now cars rarely ventured along this rutted tarmac, as evidenced by the encroaching wisps of sand.

“This is where he said he’d meet us,” Jonathan said. “And it is exactly as he described it, screen door and all.”

“Well, where is he?” Pitt asked. He ran his eyes around the distant horizon. Except for a few lonely mesas in the distance, there was nothing but flat desert in every direction. The only movement visible was that of clumps of tumbleweed.

“Maybe we should just sit and wait,” Jonathan suggested. He was finding it difficult to keep his eyes open from lack of sleep.

“There’s no cover out here whatsoever,” Pitt said. “It gives me the willies.”

“Maybe we should look inside the broken-down station house,” Sheila said.

Pitt restarted the van, pulled across the road, and parked between the ancient gas pumps and the dilapidated building. They all eyed the structure with unease. There was something about it that was spooky, particularly with the screen door opening and closing repeatedly. Now that they were close enough they could hear the aged hinges squeaking. The small paned windows, which were surprisingly intact, were too filthy to see through.

“Let’s take a look inside,” Sheila said.

Hesitantly they climbed out of the van and warily approached the porch. There were two old rocking chairs whose cane seats had long ago rotted out. Next to the door was the rusting hulk of an old-style, ice-cooled Coke dispenser. The sliding lid was open and the interior was filled with all manner of debris.

Pitt propped open the screen door and tried the interior door. It was unlocked. He pushed it open.

“You guys coming or what?” Pitt asked.

“After you,” Sheila said.

Pitt stepped inside followed by Jonathan and then Sheila. They stopped just over the threshold and glanced around. With the dirty windows the light was meager. There was a metal desk to the right with a calendar behind it. The year was 1938. The floor was littered with dirt, sand, broken bottles, old newspaper, empty oil cans, and old car parts. Cobwebs hung like Spanish moss from portions of the ceiling joists. To the left was a doorway. The paneled door was partially ajar.

“Looks like nobody’s been in here for a long time,” Pitt said. “You think this supposed meeting was some kind of setup?”

“I don’t think so,” Jonathan said. “Maybe he’s waiting for us in the desert, watching us to make sure we’re okay.”

“Where could he be watching us from?” Pitt asked. “It’s as flat as a pancake outside.” He walked over to the partially opened door and pushed it open all the way. Its hinges protested loudly. The second room was even darker than the first, with only one small window. The walls were lined with shelving, suggesting it had been a storeroom.

“Well, I’m not sure it makes a hell of a lot of difference if we find him or not,” Sheila said dejectedly. She nudged some of the trash on the floor with her foot. “I was holding out hope that since he was giving us some interesting information, he had access to a lab or something. Needless to say we’re not going to be able to do any work in a place like this. I think we’d better move on.”

“Let’s wait a little while,” Jonathan said. “I’m sure this guy is legit.”

“He told us he’d be here when we got here,” Sheila reminded Jonathan. “He either lied to us or…”

“Or what?” Pitt asked.

“Or they got to him,” Sheila said. “By now he could be one of them.”

“That’s a happy thought,” Pitt said.

“We have to deal with reality,” Sheila said.

“Wait a second,” Pitt said. “Did you hear that?”