Houston Run

Chapter Five

Was it safe yet?

Gremlin cautiously eased the closet door open and peeked outside. The cockpit was shrouded in silence, dimly lit with a greenish glow by the overhead lights. He craned his neck, examining every square inch, verifying the silver men were gone. Satisfied, he tentatively stepped from concealment, prepared to duck from sight at the slightest sound.

“Pssst!”

Gremlin involuntarily jumped, his red eyes widening in consternation.

“Pssst! Gremlin!” whispered a voice from near the computer. “Don’t faint, you twit! It’s me! Lynx!” So saying, Lynx emerged from hiding around the right side of the large navigational console. “It was cramped as all get-out back there,” he complained.

Gremlin glanced at the doorway. “Does Lynx think they left, yes? Would not want to run into them again, no!”

Lynx crossed the cockpit and joined Gremlin. “Those morons are long gone.”

“Where is Ferret, yes?” Gremlin asked.

“I’m right here,” Ferret announced, coming through the doorway. “I hid in a compartment in the corridor. I saw them leave with Blade and Hickok.”

“Poor Hickok, yes!” Gremlin exclaimed. “We should have helped him, no?”

“No,” Lynx said.

“What happened in here?” Ferret inquired. “I heard all the gunshots, and I peeped out and saw one of those big guys carrying Blade right past me. He came back and lugged Hickok away.”

“They captured Hickok, yes!” Gremlin declared.

Ferret stared at Lynx. “And you did nothing to help?”

“Nope,” Lynx admitted. “Why should I have helped him? Hickok told us not to move unless he gave the word.” Lynx shrugged. “The dummy never gave the word.”

“So you just sat there and did nothing?” Ferret asked accusingly.

“Hey! Don’t look at me like that!” Lynx snapped. “I was following his orders! And I didn’t just sit there. I was lyin’ behind the computer.”

Ferret shook his head in disapproval. “I can’t believe you! You let them take him!”

“It all happened so fast, there wasn’t much I could do,” Lynx commented. “Besides, I didn’t see you two lend a hand.”

“Gremlin was in closet, yes,” Gremlin remarked. “Gremlin didn’t see what happened.”

“Nor did I,” Ferret said. “All I could see was a stretch of the hallway.”

Lynx glanced at both of them. “What? Your ears ain’t workin’? You couldn’t tell Hickok was in trouble?”

Neither Ferret or Gremlin responded.

“Don’t be pointing no finger at me!” Lynx mentioned. “At least I crawled out when the shootin’ started. I saw them take him down.” He paused. “There’s something fishy about those characters. I don’t think they’re human. You should see the way they move. And Hickok’s bullets didn’t have much effect. So after they knocked him out, I crawled back behind the computer. I figured there wasn’t much I could do, not until I learn more about these clowns.”

Gremlin gazed out the canopy. Several hundred feet overhead was a corrugated metal ceiling. Fluorescent lights were suspended from chains at 20-foot intervals. “Where are we, yes?”

Ferret looked upward. “My guess would be in a hangar of some kind.

But I wouldn’t have the slightest idea where the hangar is located. We were in the air for a couple of hours. We could be anywhere.”

“Who cares where we are?” Lynx said. “This is our golden opportunity!”

“Uh-oh,” Ferret declared. “I don’t like that gleam in your eyes.”

“Don’t you see?” Lynx queried. “This is the chance we need to get what we want!”

“Gremlin doesn’t understand, no,” Gremlin stated.

“I think I do,” Ferret said. “And I’m not sure I like it.”

Lynx leaned toward Gremlin, “Let me spell it out for you, pal. What were we talkin’ about tonight before Hickok showed up?”

“The same old subject, yes,” Gremlin said. “What to do with our lives, no?”

“Exactly,” Lynx concurred. “What to do with our lives? How can we fit in at the Home? And what’s the answer?”

“Gremlin doesn’t know, yes,” Gremlin responded.

“Well, I know,” Lynx claimed. “And I’ve been tryin’ to convince you dorks for months.”

“It does seem like forever,” Ferret quipped.

Lynx glared at Ferret, then smiled at Gremlin. “Look. We’ve been through this a zillion times. We want to fit in at the Home. We want to do something worthwhile with our lives. Right?”

“Yes,” Gremlin replied.

“And the Doc bred us to be fighters, didn’t he?” Lynx questioned. “I mean, fightin’ is in our genes! Right?”

“Yes,” Gremlin agreed.

“So if we’re such naturally talented fighters, and if we like being at the Home and want to do something to help them out, then what better way than to become full-fledged Warriors! Right?” Lynx beamed.

“Wrong,” Ferret answered.

“No,” Gremlin said.

Lynx hissed. He placed his hands on his hips and stared at them defiantly. “What’s wrong with my idea?”

“Everything,” Ferret said. “Like you said, we’ve been through this already. Time and time again. Being a Warrior is a serious responsibility.

You can’t become one just because you crave a little action, because you want some excitement in your life.”

“That’s not the only reason I want to become a Warrior,” Lynx averred.

“Oh? What are your other reasons?” Ferret asked.

“I like the Family,” Lynx maintained. “I want to do my fair share, to repay them for everything they’ve done for us. Is that so bad?”

“No,” Ferret said. “Not if you’re sincere.”

“And you don’t think I am?” Lynx inquired.

“Let’s just say I have my doubts,” Ferret stated.

“Gremlin too, yes,” Gremlin added.

Lynx exhaled noisily. “You two take the cake, you know that? Here I am, your best buddy in all the world, and you won’t believe I can have an honest motive like everybody else. Fine! Be that way! I’ve spent months tryin’ to convince you, to show you being Warriors is just right for us!

We’d make great Warriors! We’d be happy, happier than we’ve been in ages! But no! You think I’m just being selfish.” He paused, swept them with his green eyes. “Well, I’m done! I’m through tryin’ to show you the error of your ways! I’m through tryin’ to talk some sense into a pair of vacuum heads! If you don’t want to be Warriors, terrific! But I do! And I’m gonna be one, with or without you! I’m not about to pass up a chance like this.”

“What chance, yes?” Gremlin queried.

Lynx waved his left arm at the canopy. ” This chance, bub! A golden opportunity to show the Family what we can do. Blade and Hickok are out there somewhere, prisoners. If we can save ’em, bail their butts out of this fix, we can write our own ticket. In order to become a Warrior, you have to be sponsored by a Warrior, right? So imagine how grateful Blade and Hickok will be after we save ’em. They’d do anything for us. Hickok already owes us for savin’ his wife. All we’d have to do is ask, and I’ll bet they’d gladly sponsor us for Warrior status. It’d be a breeze! But if you guys don’t want to help, that’s okay. I’ll do it myself.”

“Before you go running off half-cocked,” Ferret said, “you should know there are a few flaws in your logic.”

“Like what?” Lynx countered.

“Like you don’t know where we are,” Ferret said, beginning his enumeration. “You don’t know if Blade or Hickok are still alive. Even if you succeed in rescuing them, how will you return to the Home? On foot? You have no idea of what you’re going up against. And you have no guarantee Blade or Hickok will nominate you to become a Warrior.”

“Why quibble over a few trifling details?” Lynx retorted.

“Trifling?” Ferret said. “They qualify as insurmountable difficulties.”

“Only to a pessimist like you,” Lynx said. “Look, are you guys with me or not?”

Ferret sighed. “This won’t be easy.”

“What in life is easy?” Lynx rejoined.

“It’s insane,” Ferret commented.

“What other choice do we have?” Lynx demanded. “Do you just want to cut out on Blade and Hickok? Leave ’em in the lurch? We’re the only chance they’ve got.”

Ferret frowned, his hairy brow furrowed in thought. “No,” he said after a spell. “We can’t desert them. We must try and find them.”

Lynx grinned. “Then let’s go.”

“We should have a plan, yes?” Gremlin interjected.

“Who needs a plan?” Lynx responded. “Just stick with me.” He strolled from the cockpit.

Gremlin looked at Ferret. “We are in big trouble, yes?”

“You can stay here if you want,” Ferret suggested. “I’ll try and keep Lynx from getting himself killed.”

Gremlin shook his head. “Gremlin come too. One for all and all for one, yes? Isn’t that our motto, no?”

“Then let’s go,” Ferret said, turning to follow Lynx. “And let’s hope we don’t live to regret this.”

Lynx was waiting for them at the junction with the passage to the door.

“Come on, slowpokes!” he grumbled.

Gremlin and Ferret hastened to his side.

“We’ve gotta stick together,” Lynx said. He pointed at the closed door.

“We don’t know what we’ll find out there. Keep alert. And if we bump into those silver bozos, go for their nuts.”

“Their nuts?” Ferret repeated, puzzled.

“Yeah. Their nuts. Balls. Coconuts. Whatever you want to call them,” Lynx said.

“Why, pray tell, should we go for their testicles?” Ferret inquired.

“Two reasons,” Lynx replied. “One, they’re bigger than us. Way bigger.

But their nuts are at just the right height, unless you’d rather nibble on their tootsies or jump up and tweak their noses.”

“And what’s the second reason?” Ferret asked.

“Going for the head doesn’t seem to do much good,” Lynx staled.

“Hickok emptied one of his Colts into the head of one of those goons, and it hardly slowed the silver joker down.”

“Hickok always aims for heads, yes,” Gremlin mentioned.

“Yep. And Hickok ain’t one to miss,” Lynx observed. “Which goes to prove my point. Those silver guys ain’t human.”

“Perhaps they’re superhuman,” Ferret suggested.

“Then where’s their scent?” Lynx demanded.

“Their scent?” Ferret responded in surprise.

“Yeah, dummy! Their scent!” Lynx said. “Brother! For someone who’s got a nose as big as you do, you sure don’t use it much! The Doc designed us with a great pair of sniffers. We can track anything by scent alone. Gremlin can’t, ’cause he’s a little more human than us.”

“What about their scent, yes?” Gremlin queried.

“They don’t have any,” Lynx disclosed. “Not a trace. And humans always have a scent. So do animals.”

Ferret’s bewilderment at the revelation was evident in his face. “You’re right!” he said to Lynx. “I didn’t even notice!”

“See? I think all that easy livin’ with the Family has made you rusty,” Lynx stated. “You’ve heard that old sayin’. Use it or lose it.”

Ferret frowned, displeased by his performance. If his normally acute senses had atrophied at the Home, it was a cause for concern. Within the walled 30-acre compound, where all the dangerous wild animals had been exterminated, where danger seldom threatened, where menace was not part of the daily routine, his full faculties were not essential to his survival.

But out in the “real world,” where the law of the jungle prevailed, where survival of the fittest was the standard, sharp senses were critical. They could mean the difference between life and death.

Lynx glanced at Gremlin. “Gremlin, keep your ears peeled. You’ve got the best hearing, so we’ll rely on you to warn us if someone comes our way.”

“Gremlin will not let you down, yes!” Gremlin vowed.

Lynx grinned. “Then let’s go save Blade and Hickok, and whip some ass in the bargain.” He moved along the passage to the door, then paused, listening. “I don’t hear nothin’,” he said. “Do you?” he asked Gremlin.

Gremlin shook his head. “Gremlin not hear any noise, any voices outside, no,” he replied.

Lynx nodded, and slowly twisted the latch. The door opened with a faint snap. He carefully eased the door outward and peered around the edge. “Wow!” he exclaimed.

“What do you see?” Ferret asked.

Lynx glanced over his left shoulder. “It’s incredible! I thought the Doc had a fancy setup. Take a gander at this.” He moved aside.

Ferret stepped to the doorway and peeked past the door. His brown eyes widened in amazement.

The aircraft was parked in a hangar, as Ferret had earlier speculated, but the size, the sheer scope of the facility, was beyond his wildest imagining. The building was immense. The ceiling alone was 300 feet above the cement floor. Lengthwise, the structure covered 500 yards, and its width was half again as great. The aircraft was situated in one of the corners, its tail extended toward the middle of the hangar, according them an unobstructed view of the interior.

“Gremlin wants to take a look, yes?” Gremlin said.

Ferret retreated and stood next to Lynx. “What sort of technology are we dealing with here?” he asked in an awed voice.

“Even the Doc’s lab, the Biological Center, was puny compared to this,” Lynx commented.

“Where do we begin to search for Blade and Hickok?” Ferret inquired.

“We’ve got a problem there,” Lynx conceded. “I can’t pick up much of their scent.”

“The Warriors were being carried,” Ferret said. “Their feet weren’t touching the ground.”

“We’ll find a way,” Lynx predicted confidently.

Gremlin suddenly ducked from the doorway. “Someone is coming, yes!” he cried.

“Who is it?” Lynx asked.

“Another man dressed in silver, yes!” Gremlin told them.

“Did he see you?” Lynx asked.

Gremlin shook his head. “Gremlin doesn’t think so, no!”

Lynx nodded at the row of doors lining the left side of the passage.

“Quick! Each of us in a closet!”

The three genetic deviates hurried into hiding.

Not a moment too soon.

The outer door was abruptly wrenched all the way open, and a giant silver man entered the aircraft.

Lynx, his closet door deliberately left slightly ajar, saw the giant enter.

The silver man was holding a clipboard in his left hand and he passed once inside and gazed at the doorway, as if perplexed at finding the door partially open. He turned and moved past the row of closets. Lynx could hear the giant’s firm tread, and guessed the silver man had turned right at the junction and gone to the cockpit. What was the giant doing? Lynx wondered. Checking the aircraft after its flight? He slid from the closet and padded to the junction, then looked around the corner. Sure enough, the giant was in the cockpit, standing in front of the computer, studying a digital display and writing on a white pad affixed to the clipboard.

The giant’s broad back was to the doorway.

Lynx padded down the corridor to the cockpit door, calculating his next move. Finding Blade and Hickok would be an easy task if they knew where to look, and it was possible the giant in the cockpit knew where the two Warriors were being held. Lynx resolved to force the giant to talk using whatever means were necessary. His feline instincts were warning him to vacate this place—wherever it might be—as quickly as feasible, and he wasn’t one to argue with his instincts. But how, he asked himself, was he going to force the seven-foot giant to spill the beans? Walk on over and say, “Pretty please?”

The silver man leaned forward, examining a readout in the center of the console. He was at the foot of the middle chair.

Lynx, pondering his options, abruptly perceived a risky gambit, a way of giving himself the advantage, and he uttered a trilling sound deep in his throat as he launched his diminutive body forward, bounding across the cockpit. He reached the back of the middle chair in two leaps, his claws digging into the top of the chair as he vaulted upward, his sinewy arms coiling and surging his body up and over the chair. He came over the top like a furry arrow, his fingers extended, his tapered claws grasping for his prey.

The silver man heard a soft noise behind him and started to straighten and turn. He was not anticipating an attack, and he moved slowly.

Which suited Lynx’s plans perfectly. He reached the giant just as the silver man completed turning, and his nails ripped into the blond man’s uniform at the crotch, shredding the material like so much paper, tearing the silver fabric in a single swift swipe, then spearing inward, aiming at the giant’s privates. Lynx intended to slice the blond man’s gonads from his body.

But there weren’t any.

Lynx’s mouth dropped in astonishment as his raking claws closed on empty space where the penis should have been. His feet alighted on the chair, and he crouched, preparing to pounce on the silver man’s face.

Only the giant was faster. The blond man’s initial surprise was fleeting.

He twisted to the right as the cat-man tore open his pants, and he swung the clipboard in a brutal arc, backhanding his assailant across the mouth.

Lynx, about to spring, felt the clipboard smash into his lips and teeth.

Blood spurted from his mouth as he was knocked onto his back, onto the chair, dazed and vulnerable.

The silver man, the clipboard clutched in his left hand, reached down with his right and clamped his hand on the cat-man’s neck. “What have we here?” he asked. “How did you escape your cage?”

Lynx thrashed and pounded at the hand restraining him, to no avail.

“You are wasting your energy,” the giant informed the cat-man. “There is no sense in resisting.”

Lynx attempted to bite the hand on his neck.

“Feisty mutant, aren’t you?” the giant queried.

Lynx pulled out all the stops. He raked his claws along the silver man’s right arm, from elbow to wrist, his nails gouging inch-deep furrows in the flesh. A colorless liquid sprayed from the arm, spattering his face. Lynx snarled.

“Cease this foolish resistance this second!” the giant ordered. He raised his left hand above his head, the clipboard poised for another strike.

It never landed.

Ferret flashed from nowhere, his bony fingers rigid, and plunged his fingernails into the giant’s eyes, ramming them in and squeezing.

The silver man stiffened, releasing his hold on Lynx, and grabbed at his eyes.

Ferret was clinging to the giant’s face, his knees on the blond man’s massive chest.

Lynx came up off the chair in a rush, enraged, forgetting his goal, forgetting about Blade and Hickok, thirsting to exact his retribution on the giant. He sprang at the silver man’s stomach, his arms slashing in vicious blow after blow, his razor claws rending the silver material and splitting the blond man’s abdomen wide open, disgorging a flood of liquid and internal organs. In his rabid frenzy, Lynx concentrated on his attack to the exclusion of all else. His arms flailed again and again, turning the giant’s stomach into a stringy, pulpy mess.

“Stop it!” someone yelled.

Lynx grasped a loop of intestine and wrenched the strangely rigid tube from the giant’s abdomen.

“Damnit! Stop, Lynx! He’s finished!”

Lynx paused, his claws imbedded in the silver man’s abdomen. He suddenly realized Ferret was to his left, Gremlin to his right.

“He’s finished!” Ferret repeated.

Lynx glanced up.

The giant had slumped backwards against the computer. His torso was inclined at an angle over the console, his hands gripping the computer for support. His legs dangled limply below the ravaged vestige of his waist.

Clear fluid seeped from his torn eyes. The left pupil was crushed, but the right was intact, and the right eye gazed at Lynx in bemused amazement.

“Why’d you jump him?” Ferret asked Lynx. “What the hell were you trying to do?”

Lynx stared at the gore coating his nails and hands. “Tryin’ to capture him,” he mumbled in response.

“Why should you want to do that?” the giant queried in a low tone.

Lynx looked at the silver man. “You can talk?”

“Obviously,” the giant replied. “My locomotion is severely impaired, but my vocal apparatus is functional.”

“You’re lucky it was Ferret here who went for your eyes,” Lynx commented. “He ain’t got sharp nails like me. I would’ve ripped your peepers to pieces.”

“I believe you,” the giant said.

“What do we do now, yes?” Gremlin interjected.

Lynx abruptly realized he was standing on the bottom of the contour chair. He hopped to the floor and peered at the silver man, at the hole in his silver pants. “What are you?” he demanded.

“Beg pardon?” the giant said.

“Don’t play games with me, bub!” Lynx stated. “I want to know what you are! Now!”

“I am a Superior,” the giant informed them.

“Superior?” Lynx snorted. “Superior to what?”

“To all lower organisms, of course,” the Superior answered.

“What lower organisms?” Lynx pressed him.

“Biological organisms,” the Superior said.

“Uh-huh.” Lynx pursed his lips, his green eyes narrowing. “You ain’t told me much. What’s a Superior?”

“I am a Superior,” the giant reiterated.

“We’re talkin’ in circles!” Lynx snapped. He reflected for a moment.

“Where’s your nuts?”

“Beg pardon?” the Superior responded.

Lynx leaned forward, frowning. “I want to know why you ain’t got no nuts, pal! No balls! No gonads! Get me?”

The blond man nodded. “Superiors do not require procreational capability.”

Lynx and Ferret exchanged glances. “Why not?” Lynx questioned the giant. “Don’t you Superior types whoopee?”

“Beg pardon?”

Lynx raised his right hand. “You say that one more time, and I’m gonna finish the job I started! I want to know why you haven’t got a pecker, and I want to know now!”

The giant’s eyelids fluttered. “Peckers… are superfluous.”

“They’re what?” Lynx said.

“Not essential,” the Superior stated wearily.

“What’s the matter with you?” Lynx asked. “Are you dyin’?”

“Excessive dehydration,” the Superior stated. “My fluid level is critical.

You severed one of the major arteries from my Heinlein.”

“Your what?” Lynx said.

The Superior’s chin dropped onto his chest.

“Don’t pass out on me, turkey!” Lynx declared.

The giant’s eyes closed, then partially opened. “Unable to maintain sentience,” he stated.

Lynx grabbed the silver man’s right leg and shook it. “Don’t crap out yet! You need to tell me where Blade and Hickok are being held? What happened to ’em?”

The Superior was on the verge of collapsing. “You want the two Warriors?”

“You bet your ass we do!” Lynx asserted. “Where are they? Do you know?”

The Superior nodded. “Containment Section.”

“Containment? Where is it?” Lynx probed.

“Sublevels below Intelligence,” the Superior revealed, then slumped into unconsciousness, his huge form slipping toward the floor.

Lynx stepped aside as the giant slid from the console and sprawled forward. The silver man’s forehead rested on the foot of the center contour chair. “At least he told us a little,” Lynx commented.

“He did?” Ferret said. “How do you know we can trust what he said?

How do you know he wasn’t lying through his teeth?”

Lynx shrugged. “Just a hunch, is all. I think we can believe him. These bozos don’t impress me as the lyin’ kind.”

Ferret smirked. “Is that your professional assessment?”

“Call it whatever you want,” Lynx said. “We’ve got to find this Containment Section and free Blade and Hickok.”

“What about this Superior, yes?” Gremlin queried.

“We’ll stuff him in one of the closets,” Lynx said.

“And what if he’s missed?” Ferret asked. “What if someone comes looking for him and finds him?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Lynx said. “We haven’t got any choice. We can’t stay here.”

Gremlin stared at the Superior’s crotch. “He really does not have a penis, no?”

“No,” Lynx confirmed.

“Most unusual, yes?” Gremlin mentioned.

“It’s friggin’ weird,” Lynx remarked. “Come on. Give me a hand.”

Together, the three mutants moved the Superior to one of the cockpit compartments and crammed his bulk inside. Lynx propped the Superior against the rear wall, bending the giant’s legs perpendicular to the torso.

“There! That should do it!” Lynx said. He closed the compartment door and led the way toward the exit hatch.

“How are we going to find the Containment Section?” Ferret wanted to know.

“We’ll find it,” Lynx vowed. “Trust me.”

“I wish you’d quit saying that,” Ferret muttered.

They were a yard from the exit door when Lynx abruptly halted, his features rippling in surprise.

“What is wrong, yes?” Gremlin asked.

“Those Superiors…” Lynx said slowly, his brow creasing in perplexity.

“What about them?” Ferret responded.

“They ain’t go no peckers,” Lynx stated.

“Yeah. So?” Ferret said.

Lynx glanced at his companions. “So how the hell do they take a leak?”