300 Miles to Galveston (16 page)

Nicole descended the stairs. With her foot she rolled the drone off of him, then knelt and touched his bloody face. “You are a difficult man, Kurt Fullmer. But you are a good father.”

His eyes slipped out of focus, and she said goodbye before checking her ammo.

Nicole dropped both her pistols and took the drone’s shotgun. She had her own goal, now. She didn’t want to just kill the drones on this ship. She wanted to kill all of them on the Earth.

She headed towards med bay.

* * *

Kurt sat up. The floor was sticky, but only a ring of blood remained in a wide irregular oval around him. He still had his Beretta in his hand, and there was another one on the floor next to it. He checked the second one.
Empty.

There were flakes of blood on his chest and his shirt was shredded, but they fell away. He stood.

Walking down the hallway, he turned left, and saw Nicole on the floor, a gunshot to her back. He knelt and turned her over. She had a five o’clock shadow and an old scar on her right cheek, beneath which was a shredded patch of bloody flesh that looked like lasagna. It wasn’t Nicole. It was a slender sailor with a shotgun blast to his throat, put into her uniform.

Her shot-in-the-back uniform.

He headed towards med bay.

* * *

She sat slumped against the counter, the shotgun resting in her lap, wearing a blood stained sailor’s uniform. Opposite her sat another sailor, slumped, his face shredded with shotgun pellets from his nose to his forehead, his eyes just sockets of pulp.

“There are no other drones accessible on this ship. If shoot you, you’re cut off. Talk to me, or I finish the job.”

She had tricked the rest of the crew into the cargo hold and sealed the bulkheads. The hard part had been keeping one activated drone outside. It had cost her.

The sailor gurgled. “I hear you.”

She reached for the computer pad at the edge of the counter behind her, and began tapping.

“Why did you come to Earth?”

“God gave us this planet. By purifying it, we redeem our old world.”

“What?”

“God gave us this planet. We will make it better, and show God that creating us was not a mistake.”

She cursed. “Where is your old world?”

“I do not know your word for it.”

“Our solar system?”

“No.”

She set the pad down, pulled the bandage off from her back, and replaced it with a fresh one. The bleeding wasn’t going to stop.

“How are you communicating with me?” she grunted.

“We signaled the nanites in this area to assemble a parallel nervous system. I can control this body from our ship.”

“How long can you do this?” She did not expect him to answer, but to her surprise, he did.

“It depends on the health of the body. One or two days.”

“Why only that long?”

“When signaled, the nanites deplete the body of iron to make the antenna. Due to loss of hemoglobin, the body’s heart usually fails in one or two days.”

“So we’re all going to be dead in one or two days?”

“No. Just the ones we activate, like this.”

“This sailor you took over, he’d be dead soon no matter what?”

“Once I took control, yes. His nanites have assembled the necessary transceiver in response to my request signal, so that more detailed information can be exchanged.”

“Where is the transceiver?”

He pointed to his bloody forehead.

“How many drones do you control?”

“One.”

“But you can switch to others if this one is destroyed.”

“Yes.”

“And that takes a few minutes.”

“Yes.”

“And there are many others like you, who control other drones.”

“Yes. “

“How many?”
It’s worth a shot
, she thought.

“Three thousand.”

“Three thousand? You think you can take over our planet with three thousand guys?”

“Yes.”

“There are eight billion people on Earth!”

“Yes. And if there are eight thousand ants in a pile, you can still kill them all with one spray of pesticide. Most of your eight billion people cannot communicate, due to loss of the electrical grid. Even if they could communicate, they do not trust each other, even within the same part of the same country with the same language. There will be negotiations, disputes. They cannot become one.

“We will destroy the places you call Seattle, Portland, Oakland, San Francisco, Long Beach, New Orleans, Jacksonville, Baltimore, and Philadelphia within nine days. This cannot be stopped. If you destroy a drone, another will be taken over.”

Now it was her turn to say nothing.

“We know you have nuclear missiles. But they are aimed at land targets, and most of your operators have left their posts. You do not have electricity, clean water, infrastructure. We can give you these things, when you surrender.”

“You are offering us infrastructure, after destroying our infrastructure?”

“Yes. It is the dawn of a new day.”

She tapped the pad rapidly.

“You breathe water, don’t you? That’s why your ship landed in the ocean.”

“Yes.”

“Then why infect us on land with nanites?”

He said nothing.

“You don’t fight well on land, do you?”

“Tell your people, if they stay on land, away from oceans, we can share this planet in peace.”

She chuckled. “That’s what the Europeans said to the Native Americans.”

“I do not understand.”

“Oh, I think you do. You know, we need the oceans, too. For travel, trade, food. How are we supposed to live?”

“We will teach you the ways of God, and you will be lucky.”

“We already know about God. We have half a dozen major religions.”

“Yes, and they are all wrong, all in conflict. This is contrary to the nature of God. We are one.”

“Your entire species has only one religion?”

“Yes, because there is only one religion. You have seen fish swim together. They move this way, that way, together, without debate. Fish know God. Your species does not. You are primitive. We can teach you.”

“How will you teach us, if we don’t breathe water?”

“We will send missionaries, when the coast is safe.”

The hell you will.
She stopped tapping the pad, raised the shotgun, and finished the job.

Her back was on fire with pain. She rested the shotgun on the floor, and after a few short breaths, took the pad again, her small hands dancing across the virtual keys, then pressed
send.

* * *

Kurt tried to open the med bay door, but it was locked. He knocked on the reinforced glass, and saw Nicole’s hand rise above the counter and hold up a series of fingers:
4-1-2-4
. He entered 4124# on the keypad, and the door hissed open.

He paused when he saw the stump of the sailor’s neck. Then he saw Nicole, slumped to the floor next to a shotgun and a computer pad, a pool of her own blood swelling behind her.

Her eyes opened, but her face was pale and her lips had turned blue.

“What do I do?” he said.

She whispered, “Stay with me.”

He sat down beside her, putting her head on his lap, and ran his fingers through her fine black hair. “What did you say earlier?
Tulad
… something.”

“
Tulad ng isang ibon na malayang lumilipad
,” she said. “Like a bird, flying free.”

She closed her eyes and flew home.

Chapter 17: Message Repeats

Kurt turned on his shortwave radio as he drove the away boat back to Sabine Lake to bury his daughter.

“This is Doctor Nicole Rodriguez of the US Navy.” It was not her voice, though it was female; unnaturally smooth, with awkward pauses.

“All people on Earth have been infected with nanites sent by alien invaders. This has been the cause of the dead rising for the past three years.

“The nanites have three known phases.

“In Phase 1, the nanites bond to your DNA so your body will accept them. Then they lay dormant. That phase is already complete.

“In Phase 2, which happens when you die, the nanites shift into repair and revive mode, keeping the body alive so it can be activated by the aliens as a drone. This is why our dead have been rising, and why their wounds heal, unless they lose too much blood. The nanites can’t replace blood; they can only repair damaged tissue. I know people think you can only destroy one of the risen by beheading them, but the key issue is blood loss. Cutting an artery is sufficient if they bleed out. If it’s just bone and tissue damage – even if it looks terrible – the nanites can repair that, if there’s enough blood left in the body.

“In Phase 3, the aliens send a radio signal which tells the nanites to assemble a secondary central nervous system and a transceiving antenna in your brain. This secondary CNS and antenna are made using all the iron in your body, along with cobalt and other metals. The process takes the nanites only a few minutes. When complete, an alien operator can see through your eyes, hear through your ears, and use your body as if it were his own. The depletion of iron is fatal in a day or two, so they treat the activated drones as disposable.

“The radio signal which switches the nanites into Phase 3 can be blocked by a Faraday cage, which is simply any container that blocks radio signals, such as a room lined with aluminum foil. You must be careful not to have even a single hole in the foil. The radio signal is sent after an alien ship extends a very long wire antenna. I only had limited tests, but it seems they need to be close to activate and maintain control of a human body – within 10 miles of the ship. I learned they have plans to attack coastal cities, but never mentioned inland cities. Ten miles is the horizon if you’re at sea level. If you can’t see the ship, you’re probably out of range.

“That’s all I know. I am dying of blood loss, so this may have errors. Forgive me. This is being read by my pad’s text-to-speech function, for obvious reasons.

“The aliens will locate this signal and destroy this broadcast soon. If you’re able, please record and re-transmit this message, or at least write it down and pass it along.

“You are not alone. There are people of goodwill still alive. Find them, and fight back.

“Message repeats.”

* * *

He drove the away boat onto the shore at Port Arthur. At his feet were a dozen Beretta 9 mm pistols, four AR-15s, two combat pump shotguns, and a shovel. He left them there. Walking to the blue tarp which held Sophie’s body, he lifted it and walked towards a field of wildflowers. As he set her down in the blue-eyed grass and chinaberries, the USS
Fort Worth
groaned, listed, then cracked in half as it was pulled beneath the waves.

Kurt watched her sink, then started digging.

At nightfall, he set the shovel down. His hands were bloody, and he felt hollow to his bones.

With only soft moonlight, he had the courage to pull the tarp back from her face before saying goodbye. It was round and smooth and beautiful. She really did look at peace, and he was grateful for that. He sat down.

“You know, you always were a pain in the ass. Right from day one. When you were in the hospital, they set you between two other babies at the window so two other dads and I could see our new kids. You let out this high-pitched scream that penetrated my skull, the atrium behind me, and the concrete floor. The other two babies just shut up and turned their heads to you, as if to say, ‘What’s the deal with that kid?’

“When we got divorced, you were so young you really didn’t know anything was different. Kristine took care of you, more than she should have. I was a wreck. I really didn’t know what I was doing. But, somehow you both turned out OK. No, that’s a lie. You both were wonderful. I was lucky. Very, very lucky.

“I really have no idea what I’m going to do without you. I love you, and will miss you forever.”

He lay back on the cool grass, his head where her feet were, and closed his eyes.

Her eyes opened.

“What would you do to have this one back?” her drone form said.

“Anything.”

“Would you betray your species?”

“Yes.”

“Would you give up your own life?”

“Yes.”

She laughed, then closed her eyes and mouth and returned to death.

“Hey! Are you OK?”

Kurt sat up, his hair matted with dew and weeds. “Yeah, I’m fine.” A pretty young woman was standing behind him. As she pushed her hair away, he recognized the round face.

“God, I thought you were dead,” she said, “and I saw this hole in the ground and thought – well, whatever. Where’s Nicole?”

“She didn’t make it.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.”

He said nothing for a moment, just looking at her from his upside down position. After a moment, she squirmed.

“Don’t we need to make a tent or something?”

“Sophie, if that’s you, hit me.”

“I don’t want to hit you.”

“I don’t care what you want. Hit me, hard.”

She shifted her weight left and right.

“Do it!”

Balling her fist, she squatted and drove her first two knuckles straight into his solar plexus. No wild hooking punch, no overcommitment of balance – it was nice, clean, and efficient.

His curled up and tried to suck in air. The impact had gone through the space between his stomach and lungs and bounced off his spine.

“I’m awake,” he coughed.

She cursed. “Why didn’t you block?”

When he scrambled up, she flinched and raised her hands, like she thought he might hit her back.

He laughed and hugged her very, very hard.

Then he looked at the blue tarp, which lay unfolded in the moonlit field. Where there had been a wide pool of blood, there was now only a few dark streaks, and a ring. The blood had collected in a valley where her side and hips pressed into the plastic.

“Can I see something?” He raised her shirt. Even in the moonlight, he could see the scar from the bullet.

“Yeah, that really hurt,” she said. “Felt like I got hit with a hammer.”