His feet slide forward. But not an inch of him comes back out from the droplet.
The guard begins convulsing. Every muscle of his body trembles with his muffled scream as he pushes desperately against the scorpion fetus.
I can’t look any more.
The rest of the guards, no longer outnumbering us, run. Two run to the back door while my guard runs in the other direction.
The gurgling of the bubbles and scuffling of the victim’s shoes against the floor grates against my raw emotions. But before long, both victims quiet down as they become paralyzed.
The place is suddenly too quiet.
“Now what?” asks Tattoo. Despite his muscles, he looks like a lost little boy.
We all look around at the forest of monsters suspended in droplets.
“We get out of here,” says Alpha.
The hissing of a scorpion comes from the back door.
We run through the matrix toward the front stairs, careful not to bump into any of the droplets.
Chpater 38
A RUMBLING echoes through the cavernous room. Rows of droplets sway, threatening to fall. I hate to think about what will happen if they drop. In my mind, the water is already splashing on the floor and the monster fetuses are uncurling as we run past.
The structure on the ceiling that dangles the rows of droplets slowly shifts back. Is that water splashing behind us or is that my imagination?
The matrix moves back one row, then stops.
The eerie feeling of running through transparent wombs makes me feel even more surreal as the scorpion fetuses change in every row back to humans. By the time we reach the new first row of empty droplets, a hollow clanging of footsteps echoes down the stairs ahead of us. We skid to a stop, looking around.
The only place left to go is the raised office that overlooks the monster matrix. We run up the few steps to the office and rush in.
Doc, the guy in the flannel shirt and jeans, looks up from taking notes on his clipboard in front of an ancient TV set.
Alpha grabs a pen with one hand and grabs Doc’s hair with the other. He points the pen near Doc’s eye, ready to stab.
“I’m going to poke this through your eye unless you get those monsters off our backs,” whispers Alpha. I still think he used to be a company guy, but he looks like he really means it. Maybe life in an office is tougher than I thought.
“One human is as good as another to them,” says Doc staring at the pen. “They won’t be searching for you.”
As if to prove his point, he shifts his eyes toward the large window that overlooks the lab. A group is coming into the factory below us. Several scorpions usher in a line of dirty, naked people.
In front of them is the new row of empty water droplets.
One of the human minions stands in front of the group. We can hear him below us through the open door as he says, “It’ll be better for you to just do as you’re told.” He actually sounds like he believes it and is doing them a favor by letting them in on a secret. “Otherwise, this could be you.” He nods to two of the other minions.
They grab the nearest person and drag him down a few rows, where they shove him into a droplet.
Even from here, I can hear his gurgled scream of muffled terror. The half-formed scorpion jerks as if trying to sting its prey with the stinger it doesn’t yet have, then it latches on with its still human mouth.
I look away while I can.
The naked people in front of the door stand frozen, both mesmerized and horrified.
“Your choice,” says the guy who I assume is the foreman. “You can be like him.” He points to the scorpion victim. “Or you can choose to step into one of these water thingies without any trouble. The first fifteen people to volunteer to go into the water get it.”
Everyone steps forward.
The foreman starts picking people at random and they slip into their watery cages.
“How do I breathe?” asks a large man whose body is already in the droplet with his head sticking out.
One of the human minions shoves the man’s head the rest of the way in without answering.
The question seems to occur to all of them as soon as they’re in the water. I guess the whole situation was so weird and surreal that the victims must have figured these details would be taken care of for them. Or maybe they just assumed they could pop their heads out to breathe.
When they realize that they’re trapped and can’t push back out, their faces shift from anxiety to panic.
The front row of droplets swings and jerks erratically as the new inhabitants freak inside their watery cages. Bubbles fill the droplets as the last of the victims’ precious air seeps out of their mouths. A few scream underwater. Muffled echoes bounce off the walls of the lab.
The remaining people back away, now clearly regretting their decision. But the minions grab them and shove them into the droplets. It’s an easier job for them because I realize now that all the first people they picked were the biggest and strongest of the victims.
By the time it becomes obvious that this is no bargain, only the weakest of the group are left.
Chpater 39
TATTOO QUIETLY closes the office door, shutting out the noise below.
Alpha yanks Doc’s head back, still holding the pen to his eye. “How can you live with this on your conscience?” growls Alpha.
“Asks the man who’s threatening to stab a fellow human being in the eye,” says Doc.
Tattoo leans over Doc. “Your human privileges are being revoked, asshole.”
The office has a desk, a chair, and old-fashioned bell jars of flesh-colored blobs that I don’t want to look at. I wouldn’t be surprised if this stuff was used back when Alcatraz was a real jail for real criminals.
“I’m a prisoner here, just like you,” says Doc through gritted teeth. “I do what they make me do, just like you. And just like you, I. Have. No. Choice.”
“Yeah,” says Alpha, “only unlike us, you’re neither monster Gerber food nor bio-mass for whatever these things are.”
Behind Doc, there are several rectangular boxes the size of books. Each one has a picture taped to it with a name written below. I’m about to scan past them when one of them catches my eye.
The felt-tip letters on one of the boxes read PAIGE. The grainy picture is as bad as it gets, but the dark eyes and pixie face are unmistakable.
“What are these?” My heart is thumping fast, telling me to forget about it.
“The human race is being wiped out and you think I’m happy about it?” asks Doc.
“What’s this?” I hold up the box that says PAIGE.
“Let me guess, you’re bravely fighting to free us,” says Alpha.
“I’m doing what I can.”
“Behind the scenes, no doubt,” says Alpha.
“Way behind the scenes, bro,” says Tattoo.
“Hey!” I say. “What is this?”
They finally look at me holding up the little box with Paige’s name and picture.
“It’s a video,” says Doc.
The alarm bells shriek again, echoing off the walls.
“The hell is that?” asks Tattoo. “And why does it keep going off?”
“There’s some crazy lady on the loose,” says Doc. “Keeps propping open emergency exits. Triggers the alarm. Are you going to let me go?”
Well, at least my mom must be doing okay.
“I want to see this video,” I say.
“Seriously?” asks Tattoo. “Want popcorn too?”
“I think that’s my sister.” I lift the video. “I need to see this.”
“Paige is your sister?” asks Doc. He seems to really notice me for the first time.
It sends a jolt through me to know that this man knows Paige.
Doc tries to come to me but Alpha yanks his hair back.
“Stab me in the eye or let me go.” Doc busts out of Alpha’s grip, looking ready to punch him.
“I need to see this video.”
“If that little girl was your sister,” says Doc, “I’m afraid she died in the aerie attack.”
“No, she didn’t,” I say.
He blinks at me in surprise. “How do you know?”
“I was just with her yesterday, or however long it’s been since I got here.”
Doc’s eyes focus so intensely on me that it’s as if I’m the only one in Doc’s world right now. “She didn’t attack you?”
“She’s my sister.” As if that answers the question.
“Where is she now?”
“I think she came here. We followed.”
The alarm turns off and we all relax our shoulders a little.
“Don’t got time to watch a video, sweetheart, are you crazy?” asks Tattoo. “Take it with you.”
“It’s Betamax,” says Doc. “This is probably the only Betamax player left in the Bay Area. It’s ancient, like everything else that was left around here.”
“What’s Betamax?” I ask.
“Obsolete video format,” says Alpha. “Older than you.”
“So you can’t see it anywhere but on this machine,” says Doc.
“What’s your plan?” I ask Alpha and Tattoo. “Is there any way I can watch this and meet you guys?”
They look at each other, and it’s clear neither of them has a plan.
“We take him captive and walk out of here,” says Alpha.
“Then we all die,” says Doc. “I mean no more to the locusts than you do.”
“Locusts?”
“Those things.” He nods toward the window. “That’s what the angels call them. Not sure why. These things will be the end of humanity.” He fades into his own world for a minute as he looks out over the scorpion factory, then seems to remember us. “Look, if you want to escape, tonight is the time to do it. There’s something scheduled that will have all the locusts flying off on a mission.”
“And we believe you why?” asks Tattoo. He’s found a letter opener from somewhere and is checking out the edge.
“Because I’m a human being and so are you. That puts us on the same team, like it or not.”
“How long will the creatures be gone?” asks Alpha.
“Don’t know.”
“What time will they leave?”
“I only know what I just told you. Tonight will be your best and only shot.”
“If they’re gone, we could free everybody,” I say, thinking of Clara and Mom and everyone who sang “Amazing Grace” when those people were marched to their deaths. Now I know where they went.
