The Parasite War (5 page)

"Jo!" he shouted. "It's got me!"

His ankle was pulled hard, and he landed sharply on his ass. He tried to shake off his assailant, but he couldn't tell which way to kick. A match flared in the darkness, blinding him. A shot went off, and the hand relaxed its grip. The body it belonged to splashed into the water below.

"Shit!" Jo exclaimed as the match burned her fingers. She struck another, using it to light the lantern. She shot another attacker through the head, clearing the ledge, and placed the lantern there. Taking Alex by the elbow, she pulled him back into the recesses of the shaft. Since it sloped upward, they could see the infected milling in the waist deep water below, while they were hidden in the shadows. After that it was like shooting the famous fish in a barrel.

When the infected were all dead, Alex said, "We better gather up all we can and beat feet the hell out of here."

"Why? There aren't any more of them."

"Not right now, but there are more coming, you can count on it."

"But they don't do things that way, do they?" Jo sounded frightened.

"They didn't used to, but then, they never used to come down into the sewer, either. Maybe it's because food is getting scarce. These goddamn parasites can't live on dead bodies."

Jo was busily stuffing things into her backpack. She rolled the rest up in a blanket. Peering over the ledge, at the bodies floating in the water, she said, "Do we dare to go down there now? Won't they infect us?"

"We're safer in the water. The virus, or whatever it is, is more likely to infect us if we stay up here. In the water, the colloid form will dissolve as soon as it gets out of the body."

Alex hopped over the side. A moment later, Jo splashed down after him. With his gun barrel, he pushed the bodies out of the way and started moving out.

As soon as they were far enough away to talk, Jo said, "I just thought of something."

"What?"

"They followed us back, didn't they? They followed us, and listened to us making love, and waited until they thought we were asleep. And they did it all without making a sound."

"Yeah, that's how it looks."

"But how could they do that?"

"They must communicate in some way we don't know . . . maybe telepathy."

"But how could some virus, even if it was created for germ warfare, make people telepathic?"

"I don't know, but it would explain why we hear colloids screaming when we burn them. I always wondered how they could do it without any vocal apparatus."

"You mean that we hear it in our minds?"

"Got a better explanation?"

"No . . . but what kind of a virus could do that?"

"We don't know if it is a virus. It's something like one, that's all we know."

"Where could it have come from?"

"What difference does it make? It's here now, even if it came from halfway across the galaxy."

Where would they go? That was what they discussed now, as they moved through the night. If the colloids no longer feared dissolving in water—and why should they, while there were hosts to carry them?—the sewer wasn't safe anymore. Where else in the city could humans hide?

"The only place where we've got a chance is the park," Alex said as they came up the steps of the Broad Street Subway. There was a waning moon, just past full, that lit their way.

"You mean Fairmount Park?"

"Yeah, it stretches for miles, and it's completely overgrown. We might be able to survive there for a while."

"You don't think the colloids will look for us there?"

"Even if they do, we'll have a lot of room to elude them."

Jo shrugged. "What have we got to lose?"

They had a hike of a mile or more, before they reached Fairmount Park. They stuck to alleys and narrow, back streets as much as they could, which more than doubled the time it took to reach their destination. Twice they saw the glistening hump of a colloid, one sliding down a brick wall, the other pulsating in a doorway. They managed to get by both of them without being sensed. They didn't stop until they were knee deep in weeds, the statues of the park rising ominously in the shadows. This had been a dangerous place even when the city was still alive, a place known for rapists and muggers, a far cry from the intent of its designers in the nineteeth century, who had envisioned a sylvan paradise in the heart of the city. The demise of mankind had left the park a little cleaner, at least; there was no fresh graffiti on the monuments. In the end, Alex thought grimly, the planet might be better off under the rule of the colloids. He decided not to think about it. This was no time to fall into a depressed state.

"I used to jog here," Jo said, her voice sad and distant. "Over there by Boathouse Row."

Alex turned in the direction she faced, and saw the shards of the old boathouses rising up from the river like decaying teeth. It somehow was not nostalgic to remember the rowers in their sculls, who had been a familiar sight in the old days. It hurt to think about the world the way it used to be.

"We've got to go further in, away from the river," he said.

Jo nodded, and they moved on. There were many stone structures in the park, even outbuildings that they might be able to live in.

"There must be other people hiding out around here," said Alex.

"Yeah."

"We don't want to get blown away by humans who mistake us for infected stiffs. Let's be just as careful here as we would outside the park."

"It seems as though you've planned this out," Jo said.

"Yeah, I've thought about coming here more than once. You know how the sewer can get to you."

The foliage was so thick now that they could hardly move. It was amazing how much nature had reclaimed in only three years. Alex stopped and removed a machete from his pack. He hated to dull the blade, but this seemed like the time to use it. He started hacking away at the branches until he and Jo could move forward a little faster.

"You know, this just might work out," he said. "It's like the goddamn Amazon Jungle back here."

Jo smiled, enjoying the first pleasant moment they had experienced today. The possibility of survival seemed a little more feasible now, at least. That was something.

"You know, it's funny," she said. "I've been living down in the sewer for a long time. It never occurred to me that I might come up and live on the surface again, because there were other people underground, and there was bartering going on so you could at least get a little food and some weapons. What are we gonna live on now?"

"There are brooks and ponds in this park. By now they should be fairly clean. After all, it's been three years since any waste has been pumped into the river. If we boil our water, it should get rid of any residue. As for food, well, as you pointed out before, there must be other people in this park. It won't be long before we'll run into some of them."

"Let's hope they're not too territorial."

"Yeah."

They went a little further, until they came to a stone bridge. There was a large enough ledge underneath it for them to lie down on and get some rest, and roots and underbrush kept them pretty well hidden. Feeling that things had worked out better than they could have hoped a few hours ago, they covered themselves with torn blankets and stretched out, completely exhausted. The ground was hard, and it wasn't quite warm enough for comfort, but they were both asleep within seconds.

Alex awakened, finding Jo's head nestled against his chest. He was touched by the innocent expression on her still dreaming face. Birdsong and the water running under the bridge were soothing, constant sounds. He could almost believe that the colloids had never existed. But this was not his wife lying with him. She was gone, and so was his son. And the entire world was as dangerous as Iraq, when he had been with a Marine infantry division in Fallujah.

There was another sound, faintly and pleasantly audible over the rushing brook. It was something Alex hadn't heard in a very long time. Someone was playing music!

He jostled Jo awake. "What?" she said sleepily.

"Listen."

A gradual awareness crept over her features, as she began to perceive what she was hearing.

"It's a guitar," she said, smiling. "God, that's so beautiful!"

They rose, and, without even rolling up their blankets, began to move toward the music. The simple guitar chords broke the morning stillness with a purity that instilled in them a childlike wonder. It was easy to find the music's source. They didn't speak while they stole through the weeds toward the hirsute musician, who sat on a log strumming complacently, as if the entire world were at peace.

The guitarist didn't finish the song he was playing, but began to play another one. Hitting a note that didn't please him, he went back to the beginning of the song again. The same thing happened, and he started a third time.

Alex decided to show himself while some of the magic still lingered. He didn't want to listen to a long rehearsal if he could help it.

"Hello," he said, stepping out of the bushes.

An Uzi was pointed at him so quickly that he wondered why he hadn't seen it before coming into the open. The Ingram still at his side, Alex felt naked. Fortunately, Jo was covering him from the bushes.

"Put that thing down, or I'll blow your fucking head off," she commanded the guitarist.

The musician looked surprised, holding the neck of the guitar in his left hand, the Uzi in his right. "Which do you want me to put down, the gun or the ax?" he asked in a calm voice.

Alex laughed. "Just the gun, please."

The musician stooped and carefully set the Uzi on the ground. He held the guitar to his breast as though it were his only child. "This guitar is all I got," he said without emotion.

"Take it easy. We're not after your guitar, or anything else that belongs to you," Alex replied. "Jo, come on out here."

Jo emerged from the bushes, her pistol trained on the guitarist. Walking toward him, Alex lifted the Uzi off the ground and, holding one weapon in either hand, said, "You can put that away now, Jo."

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"I think so. He was only trying to protect himself."

"I guess we can't hold that against him," Jo lowered the .32's barrel. "But we don't know if he's got any friends hanging around here."

"Are you shitting me?" the musician said.

Jo and Alex looked at him.

"Friends? Nobody can trust anybody these days, Just when you think you can trust somebody, they get infected and try to kill you."

They looked at each other now. "We trust each other," Jo said softly.

"Right," the musician said.

"What's your name?" Jo asked him.

"Flash," he replied. "Frank Lloyd Ash, really, but people used to call me Flash."

"F.L. Ash," said Alex. "You used to play with the Dream Architects. We saw you at the Tower Theater back in '84."

Flash smiled appreciatively. "Fuckin' A. We opened for Talking Heads. You were there, huh, man?"

"I sure was. I liked you guys at least as much as Talking Heads."

Modestly, Flash said, "Probably just because you knew we were local boys."

They all laughed. "How long have you been living in the park?" Jo asked.

"Couple years. I came here to get as close to nature as I could, before the end came. Only thing is, it hasn't come yet. Not for me, anyway. You know, I was a junkie before the colloids got here. Cleaned my body out since, but for what? My guts are just gonna be filled up with one of them slimy glopolas, sooner or later." Flash's face was expressionless, his brown eyes hard, as he described the seemingly inevitable fate of every human being on earth.

"You can't be sure of that," Jo said. "There might be some survivors.
You
could survive."

"Dream on," Flash said. "So you just came into the park, huh? Where you been hiding out all this time?"

"In the sewer," Alex said.

"The fuckin' sewer! I couldn't take it down there."

"Where else is there?"

"The country," Flash said. "But it's a long hike, and there's a lot of colloids between here and there."

"That's where we're going, though."

"Let me know when you're leaving. I might go with you, if you don't mind."

"We'll think about it."

"What happened down in the sewer?" Flash asked.

"The colloids are sending their fresh victims down there lately. There are so few people left on the surface that they've got to do something for food, I guess."

"Is nothing sacred?" Flash said. "Can't even hang out in the sewer no more."

Alex laughed again. Flash's deadpan humor was almost as appealing as his guitar playing.

"You know, it's a funny thing," said Flash. "I've played this ax within a few yards of colloids, and they never seem to notice. They've come after me, sure, but they don't seem to hear my music, even when the body they've infected is still in one piece. As soon as they take over the central nervous system, the victim loses all interest in things like music. I hear they're not much for art galleries, either."

"That's all right," Alex said. "I was never much for art galleries, either."

"Well, different strokes." Flash picked up his guitar again. "Mind if I strum some?"

"Please do." Jo and Alex made themselves at home, sitting on the ground. Flash seemed to forget all about them as he played the old songs that had almost sent him to the top of the charts so long ago. His style was out of date and not for all tastes. It was difficult to play, and was not really suited for an acoustic guitar, but it sounded marvelous to his tiny audience.

When he finished playing, they talked some more.

"Were you a musician right up until the colloids came?" Jo asked him.

"Part of the time. I did gigs around Philly, South Jersey, Wilmington. New York once in a while. The usual musician's bullshit. You know, twenty years past my prime, and knowing it's all downhill from here. But what else are you gonna do?"

"You hung in there," said Alex. "That's what's important."

Flash looked at him with clear eyes. "You sound like my old man."