When Aliens Weep: An Alien Apocalyptic Saga Page 3

  Reaching out with her good arm, she felt around the floor of her enclosure, smashing her hand against something hard that tipped over and leaked moisture over her arm. She raised her arm to her nose and sniffed. She tentatively brought it to her mouth and sucked. Water. At least she thought it was water but then realized it had a chalky aftertaste.

  Scrambling as best as she could, she maneuvered her body over to the spot where the spilt water lay on the floor. She powered through a wave of dizziness and managed to lower her mouth to the floor to lap up the remaining moisture.

  Convulsively, she searched for the container with her good arm. In her scramble to get to the water, it must have rolled away. The longer her questing hand roamed over the floor, the more frightened she became. Locating the water container had become a representation of control. She must regain a semblance of control if she was going to survive this. She tried to push away the thought of breaking down completely. She could feel tears slipping from her bound eyes.

  Suddenly exhausted, she rolled back to her pad and huddled, her tears now coming in sobs that soaked into the obstruction across her eyes.

  Not being able to tell if her eyelids were open or closed was maddening. Overwhelmed with worry about Hud and Peter, she fell into an exhausted sleep, only to be awakened by a pervasive burning smell that signaled terror.

  She feigned sleep as the smell became stronger. She thought she heard a yelp but, as she strained to hear more, the only sound she identified was the sound of bees buzzing; louder then softer, rising in pitch then fading.

  She froze at the sound of something being dragged across the floor. She felt it pass in front of her then stop. She heard no more as the buzzing of bees faded in the distance, and then she was left again in complete silence.

  As her heart continued its frenetic beating, she took a deep breath, hoping it would slow her respiration to a more normal level. Absently, she ran her hands through her hair. What the . . . ? Perplexed over a strange sensation, she withdrew her hand. Shaking it to rid herself of the softness that had clung to her fingers, she was unable to see the clumps of her hair as they fell from her scalp and fingers to land in her lap like spent tufts of gossamer.

  What the heck was that? Gathering courage, she reached up to her face again and ran her hand over her head, swatting at imaginary bugs. Finding nothing in the air around her head, she relaxed, breathing in relief as more of her hair silently detached from her head to lie unseen about her shoulders.

  The minutes ticked by. Before long they piled up as hours. Ginger Mae’s stomach ached with a relentless acknowledgment of hunger and thirst. Her psyche begged for the darkness to go away. She needed light. It was only in the light that she could begin her hunt for . . . for . . . for what? she wondered. Her mind searched, confusion wearing her down. I have to find it. It was only then that she could begin to figure out how to get back home. She didn’t know where she was but she knew instinctively that this wasn’t her beloved Earth. But what? What do I need to find?

  Before long, her tears stopped. Her strength taxed to its limits, she slept.

  Crash— Ginger Mae snapped out of her sleep and sat up. What was that? Sniffing the air, she recognized the unmistakable dreaded burning smell. Huddled tightly on her pad she drew herself into a ball, hoping to be overlooked, if only she could make herself small enough.

  She strained her ears, desperate to catch the sound of something familiar. She sensed the presence of others: movements and a thump. The darkness pressed in on her. She clamped her hand over her mouth to prevent herself from screaming out in fear. The sounds stopped as suddenly as they’d begun, the burning smell receding. The darkness froze her in place as her tears welled up again.

  From out of the silence and the darkness, she heard a scrape.

  “Hello,” she ventured, her voice timid and tremulous. She was greeted by nothing more than silence. “Is anyone there?” The silence slapped her in the face again. Frightened yet mollified, she curled back into a ball to return to sleep. Who knew what trouble the singular sound would bring her? Maybe it was just her imagination or wishful thinking. Her mind eventually switched off to suck her deeper into the blackness.

  The black void now her constant companion, her only escape became sleep: The sleep of the innocent that promised temporary oblivion yet insidiously and unknowingly robbed her of her memory. For it was during her sleep that the residue of the minute toxic substance contained in the hot burning smell—the odor that terrorized her so—was fractionally destroying the cells in her brain. In the part of the brain that stored memory; the essence of who we are and who Ginger Mae had been.

  Chapter 4

  The tired survivors trudged pitifully toward the huge, shimmering city. Thousands of creatures fluttered above their heads; golden minions and hundreds of their white, curly-haired vulpine nooglets.

  From time to time, a minion would dart to the ground to reach out and touch one of the survivors, forcing Baby or Echo to dart forward and silently warn them off.

  Stunned and preoccupied with their grief, the survivors trudged on like punch-drunken zombies of the popular and historic bygone golden age of twenty-first-century Earth’s literature.

  Baby, Netty and Wil guided them toward the city. Sticking like glue to Barney and Chloe, Echo spoke to all that welcomed her into their frightened and grieving minds. Her shimmering thoughts swirled brighter and brighter.

  “We have much we must do, my Sister and Brothers. The Womb is not pleased you are here but again, accommodations will be made. I am happy to be able to join my long lost brother and sister minions at last. I have much to do myself. A feast is being prepared for you in your private quarters. There will be time to present you officially to our population later. We will be allowed time to grieve and you can acclimate yourself before your jobs are assigned.”

  Some of the survivors began to mutter. Bonnie stopped dead in her tracks.

  “Work? What do you mean, Echo? We can’t work. We need to find out where my husband is.” Agitated, she turned to the small crowd, her eyes resting on Hud. “And Ginger Mae . . . we need to find them, right, Hud?” The strain of hysteria in her voice was pronounced. Hud rushed to her side. He held her in his arms.

  “Damn straight, Bonnie.” Over her head, he searched the faces of his fellow survivors. Wil stepped toward them.

  “Of course, my friends. We will do everything we can to find Peter and Ginger Mae. Echo was just thinking ahead. No one will push you until you are ready but we all have long lives ahead of us and we must plan.”

  Bonnie struggled in Hud’s arms, her face blotchy from tears, and a flash of anger surfaced. “It’s bad enough I just lost my mother. But my life is over without my husband . . . don’t you understand? ” Breaking free of Hud, she stood before Wil, gesticulating wildly. “I need to see the Womb. Let me see him.” She grabbed on to Wil’s arm as Hud and Abby rushed to calm her.

  Eluding them, she threw herself at Netty. Grabbing the alluring Elder by her shoulders, Bonnie shook her hard.

  “I know you can fix this. Let me speak to the Womb. Let me speak to him . . . now!” Bonnie screamed her frustrations and broken heart at Netty, who stood stoically until the distraught woman burned down, reduced to sobs.

  Bonnie finally slid down the length of Netty’s figure to collapse on the ground. Tears of sympathy from the other survivors didn’t help. Dezi stooped down to Bonnie as her sobs changed to hiccups. He pulled a dishrag from his apron, extending it to help her dry her face. Bonnie just stared at the rag, her face a mask of hopelessness. They stared into one another’s anguished eyes while the other survivors held their breath.

  “Hud, give me a hand.” Dezi and Hud struggled, trying to bring Bonnie to her feet. Her hold on her emotional state collapsed along with her body. Taking hold again, Hud lifted her in his strong arms, his face set and grim.

  “Okay, Wil. Please . . . let’s just get to where we need to go.”

  Silently, the group trudged on, t
he clatter of their airborne entourage soon joined by the worrisome trumpet of Tobi as she left her herd to dash forward as soon as she realized Hud was carrying Bonnie.

  The group parted to let the worried pachyderm approach Hud. Tobi’s trunk roamed over Bonnie’s limp body. She listened for Bonnie’s heart and the sounds that would show her lungs still drew breath. Soft rumbles from deep within Tobi’s huge bulk marked her concern.

  Taking wing, Echo left Barney to alight atop Tobi’s back where she proceeded to relax the matriarch and prod her back to her herd. Rejoining the survivors, Echo’s swirling projections urged the group on toward the city that now rose high up over them.

  As the survivors got closer, the pastel effect diminished, fading into an iridescent glow. They stood transfixed. Cobby spoke for all of them.

  “What the heck is this?”

  For the city resembled a colossal beating heart, clearly alive. Its walls were made of a clear organic substance riddled with giant pathways throbbing with life and resembling the same veins and arteries contained in their own bodies. Though they contained something quite different than blood; something that gave the luminous iridescent quality to the minions and the Elders.

  Chloe spoke up, her arms still wrapped around Jose and Abby. “I know how you all feel. But we have nothing to fear. This is merely the most visible manifestation of the Womb.”

  “This is the Womb?” Hud asked.

  Chloe nodded as the rest of the survivors allowed their revulsion to speak for itself.

  “Ah . . . Netty . . . do you mind explaining why we need to go inside this . . . this . . . ah . . .” Dezi’s voice evinced a note of panic.

  Netty raised her hands in a gesture of supplication. “Please . . . it’s alright. This is just the framework the minions must work in. Yes, it is alive. The minions plug into the Womb for guidance. Much as Baby and Echo plugged into the membrane in the Hive. This is the communication pathway for the minions. It also provides sustenance for those not able to eat from the power of their sun due to their duties.”

  Netty met the eyes of the survivors, as comprehension and wonder replaced the fear in their countenance.

  “The minions don’t require shelter from the elements on this planet. There are no weather patterns as we know them. This planet revolves around their sun star in such an orbit that the entire planet is stable and stays temperate. It is always at the same distance from the sun, a feat matched nowhere else in any galaxy I know of. The bodies of water are all salt-free and emanate from below—the water table is very shallow. This planet serves as a staging area for their missions. Look.” Netty pointed to the membrane where shadowy figures could be seen scurrying around in service to any number of mysterious projects.

  “Not there . . . over there.” Netty directed them to the right of the organic entrance to the Womb. Everyone could plainly see a portion of the Womb that appeared darker, less transparent.

  “That’s where we’re going. It’s for us. That’s where we will live. Some of us will work there.” She glanced at Dezi. “I’m thinking your kitchen will need to be expanded in there. When Wil and I were in attendance, we never needed much of a facility.” She nodded to the crowd. “I think it’s time to fashion something more permanent.” She smiled at Dezi, “Whatever you feel you need is available with the help of the Kreyven. If we’re lucky, we’ll get the assistance of the one most familiar with humans. We may not be able to match everything you are comfortable with from Earth but we can come darn close.”

  “What do you mean, Netty? You mean there are more Kreyvens?” Kane’s eyes widened at the prospect.

  Netty glanced at him with amusement. “Of course there are. Did you think an asset as valuable as the Kreyven would be expended to save a few human lives if there were only one? The Womb has galaxies and galaxies to monitor. Other interventions are occurring as we speak.” Turning away, she laughed. “You may never see more than one Kreyven at a time. They are the busiest life form ever produced by the Womb.”

  As the survivors’ attention turned back to the minion city they advanced their inspection, awed by the walls of the Womb that extended forty to sixty feet in the air, structured in various configurations. Not a single square corner was observed; roundness abounded, yet it appeared sturdy. An almost imperceptible motion vibrated the entire structure, its rhythm clearly a result of the iridescent fluid being pumped through the veins and arteries. But pumped to where?

  Cobby stepped up to the structure, testing the outer wall. All could see the slight give, showing the pliant nature of the Womb.

  “Do not fear, Captain. It is quite indestructible.”

  “It’s not that, Netty . . . I’m just a bit queasy with the thought I’ll be living inside this . . . this . . . organ.”

  “On the contrary, Captain. You will be living inside the Womb. There is no place as wondrous anywhere in all the galaxies.”

  From behind them, they suddenly heard what could be taken as a warning siren; staccato beeps, not unpleasant but clear in their universal message. Their hovering entourage immediately pulled higher into the sky. Wil and Netty directed them all to the side, clearing away from the huge Womb opening to watch as a hurried group of minions came into view.

  They looked much the same as Baby and Echo except for one. It was perched astride a huge mobile sphere that appeared to be floating across the grass plain with only the minion’s golden leather touch.

  “It conceals a gravitational device, very much the same one the Kreyven utilizes in its work,” Wil explained in a hushed tone. “This type of sphere is only used when there has been a cull.”

  The minion sitting astride glanced their way, the most magnificent flaming butterfly attached to one antler.

  “Wow, get a loada that,” Kenya remarked. “I want me one a them.” Even with the sun not fully set, the butterfly trailed sparks that danced in a slow loop behind the minion—the only one that had such a magnificent creature attached.

  The survivors’ collective awe sang as the sphere moved closer, the minion aboard intently interested in them as its radiant eyes rested on the distraught Bonnie, nodding its head at her as they passed, trailing a slight scent of spicy lemon.

  Hud spoke up. “What the heck was that about?”

  Netty cocked her eye and turned to Baby who sent shimmering swirls into their minds.

  “That was a navigator. She is an IV. It is her job to make sure we know the correct path back to Oolaha after a cull. We can’t afford to wander into the stream of any of the billions of magnetic trails that hold the cosmos together. They can be quite destructive.”

  “A cull,” someone said from the group. “What’s a cull?”

  “A cull is when the Womb has decided a danger needs to be removed. They are brought here to study. If the situation is not rectified, another cull may be instituted. Here at the Womb is where the minions conduct their studies and experiments on the culled life forms.”

  Faces turned white, confusion abounding.

  “Experiments, Baby?” Jose’s voice contained an edge. “Is that what you did on Earth? You culled?”

  “Of course, Brother Jose. We have culled from Earth for millions of years. We also cull to observe evolution. Sometimes a species is not adapting well. We need to decide if it’s worth modifying its DNA to help it survive or let the doomed species fade from existence. But that is a mere curiosity. The most important function is to ensure harmony. In the worse cases, removing the offending species with an intervention most dire is the only solution.”

  Jose scanned the crowd, his eyebrow raised. “Well, doesn’t that just sound ducky, Baby? I think we need to sit down and have a long talk about what happened to Earth and what you minions have been up to. I’m assuming your plans are for Abby and I to be in on the culls?”

  “Yes, Brother Jose. There will be much for you to do.”

  Abby’s face reflected surprise and confusion. “Can we table this conversation for now? I don’t like where I think it
’s going and we need to get Bonnie and Chloe some attention.”

  She waved her hand to include the rest of the survivors. “I’m sure we’re all ready to eat and sleep, right, gang?” She appealed to Baby, “I just don’t think we can handle any more surprises right now.” Murmurs of assent convinced Baby as he turned to escort them into the Womb’s embrace.

  The group didn’t walk far before they were confronted with a barricade.

  “For now, everyone is forbidden to enter further into the Womb without an escort,” explained Netty. Pointing to the right, an opening appeared in the Womb wall. “This will be your quarters. Please don’t wander around outside without the escort of a minion.” She smiled. “We wouldn’t want you to wander into a portal to another world by mistake.”

  Netty leaned back, pensively eyeing the hovering entourage. The quick and bright faces of the nooglets and the resident minions showed no lessening of their excitement.

  “Baby, can you tell our fan club we will be saying goodnight for now?” The words were no sooner out of her mouth than the curious hovering creatures disappeared over the barricade. Netty turned with a sigh.

  “Don’t worry, they’ll be back tomorrow.” Gesturing with her arm she said, “Shall we?”

  Taking a last look at the soaring walls of the Womb, the small group entered their new home.

  The walls cast iridescent light that enabled all to see even as the natural light from the unfamiliar sun dimmed. The temperature felt a few degrees cooler than they were used to on Earth and a similar organic smell permeated the air. Sniffing discreetly, the survivors all noticed a slight sweeter note that they thought emanated from the walls of the Womb and traces of the spicy lemon that followed the mysterious minion IV with her striking flaming butterfly.

  The first room consisted of a large, empty space. The ceilings soared, the light was luminous but that was all. Several smaller spaces funneled off the main entry, bereft of doors.