Slimer

Eleven

‘Hey, I thought you were real sick,’ said Alex, scarcely able to believe his luck.

Rochelle reclined naked on the bunk, her legs apart. It was obvious what was on her mind. ‘I’m feeling a lot better now. Great really.’ Her voice had an odd, dreamy quality to it. ‘The cuts are only superficial anyway.’ She put her hand down between her legs and began to caress herself. ‘But there is one thing I need to feel even better…’

A small warning bell started up in a dim recess of Alex’s mind. He sensed that something was wrong. Rochelle didn’t normally behave this way, even when she was horny. But the bell was immediately smothered by Alex’s more pressing physical needs. When it came to sex he always acted first and asked questions, though only rarely, later. Any abnormalities in her behaviour he dismissed as a result of her traumatic experience in the recreation room.

He began to get out of his clothes. ‘Baby, your troubles are over. Doctor Alex is here and in just two shakes his famous scalpel will be where it does you the most good.’ But as he stepped out of his pants her expression suddenly changed. ‘No… no…’ she whispered in a small frightened voice, ‘I don’t want to do this.’

He froze and stared down at her. ‘What? What the fuck are you talking about?’ He was in no mood to play silly female games at this point.

She looked frightened — terrified. ‘I don’t want to do this. They’re making me, Alex. The crazy ones. They want to hurt us.’

Alex glanced around the room. ‘Rochelle, have you flipped your wig completely?’ he asked, getting angrier. ‘We’re alone in here.’ Perhaps the swipe she took from that creature had shaken her brains up. Well, no matter. Crazy or not she was about to get well and truly screwed.

She got off the bunk. ‘Alex… get out of here. Run while you have the chance,’ she cried urgently. She gave him a shove towards the door. He shoved her back. ‘Hey, you stupid bitch, I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you!’ He forced her backwards to the bunk, his hands on her breasts, squeezing hard.

Her expression changed again. There was a look in her eyes he’d never seen before. She reached up and encircled his wrists with her fingers. ‘Stay,’ she breathed.

‘Well, make up your fucking mind,’ he muttered, confused now. What was going on? And what was that goddam awful smell that had suddenly filled the room. It was as if something dead had farted.

She smiled at him and he saw her tongue. It was black.

‘Ro, what.?’

Her tongue was emerging from between her lips. It seemed endless. He tried to recoil but she held him by the wrists with an unexpectedly strong grasp. He glanced down and saw that he was being held by a pair of male hands.

He couldn’t comprehend what was happening.

‘Ro.?’ he began imploringly. But as he opened his mouth to speak her black tongue suddenly leapt out at him and, before he could react, had forced itself between his teeth. Then it was thrusting down into the back of his throat…

Choking, and overwhelmed with panic, he struggled like a mad man to break free but Rochelle held him fast. More and more of the tongue forced itself into his mouth. It was like a giant worm burrowing its way down his throat. He could feel it going down his oesophagus, slimy and cold. So cold..

And as all this happened Rochelle’s eyes stared into his with a dark, insane glee. '

Mark could have been taken for dead the way he looked and Chris kept laying her head on his chest to listen to his heart. She expected it to be beating faintly and slowly but it was skittering like a startled rabbit.

Her eyes were sore from crying and tiredness. Why hadn’t she been more forceful with him over his habit right from the beginning? Now it was too late. She knew that now. She had not really noticed the physical change in him until recently when she’d come across a photograph of them together taken a year ago. The difference from the way he looked now had come as a shock.

Perhaps she should go and tell Mark’s father what was going on when they got back to England. But it would be a drastic step. Mark might never forgive her. And how would Mark’s father react to the news that his only son was a junkie? He might reject him completely or even turn him over to the police — he was such a conservative, up-tight character.

But no, she decided, that was unlikely. He had had high hopes for Mark and they had still not quite gone. And he still indulged him in all sorts of ways even though Mark never showed him any gratitude. If Mark actually went to him and asked for his help she was sure the old man would be so pleased he’d do anything to help him. The problem was that Mark would never do that, no matter how bad things got.

She sighed. All that was in the future anyway. Right now Mark needed a fix badly. Alex had turned him down and she knew why even though Mark hadn’t said so. Alex wanted her again. She’d do anything for Mark but the thought of letting Alex touch her again made her want to vomit. She couldn’t even think of the things he’d made her do the previous night…

Yet sooner or later Mark was going to get so desperate for a fix he’d beg her to accommodate Alex. And what was she going to do then?

There was a knock at the door and she jumped. She was about to reach for the gun lying beside the bed when she heard Paul say, ‘Mark, Chris, you okay?’

She relaxed and went to the door. But when she opened it and saw the looks on Paul and Linda’s faces she began to feel anxious again. ‘What’s wrong? Has that thing come back?’

‘No,’ said Paul as he and Linda hurried inside. ‘But we’ve found out the answer to all that’s been happening and I’m afraid it’s not good.’

Mark was awake now and sitting up. He looked dreadful — his eyes two dark shadows and his face haggard and covered in sweat. ‘What’s going on?’ he asked as he watched Paul go up to the cabin’s small ventilator grill and peer into it with the aid of a torch. ‘Find something to block this up with,’ he instructed Linda.

Mystified, Chris said, ‘Are you feeling okay?’

Paul began to explain what they’d learned from Shelley’s video tapes. When he finished Chris’s first reaction was to laugh. ‘It’s fantastic. I can’t believe it. You’re saying this creature absorbs people… and then can duplicate them.?’ She shook her head helplessly.

Paul said, ‘I know it’s all pretty wild but we’ve seen it happen for ourselves. Buckley turning into that creature. And when we followed that thing that tried to break into our cabin on the first night and only found Shelley, that's the reason why. It had turned into Shelley.’

‘Shelley was this creature too?’ asked Chris.

‘And the beautiful Dr Soames. They’re all one and the same. The way it seems to me is that this thing is like a genetic thief that goes around stealing human blue-prints. They’re all mixed up together but every now and then one of the victims manages to come out on top, perhaps by sheer willpower, I don’t know. And when that happens their original body reforms, but not for long…’

‘Because the dominant power is this “Charlie” thing?’ asked Mark.

‘Yes. Charlie. Short for Carcharodon. A great white shark. Its DNA and the Phoenix genes that those stupid scientists created have formed a winning combination. And when it comes out on top it either manifests itself in a physical form based on what it used to be — that creature that replaced Buckley — or as some kind of liquid that can move around by itself.’

‘The slime I saw in the crane,’ breathed Mark, ‘the black stuff that ran up the wall into the…’ He glanced up at the ventilator grill that Linda was blocking with a torn up pillow case. ‘Now I know I wasn’t hallucinating. But how come it didn’t attack meT ‘I don’t know,’ Paul confessed, ‘but we do know what happened to all those people, and why all those clothes were lying around.’

‘But how come some of the clothes were all torn and bloody and the rest were unmarked?’ asked Chris.

‘Well,’ said Paul slowly, ‘Shelley’s guess was that the thing has two kinds of hunger. When it’s in its physical form the shark instincts take over and it wants to eat in the normal way — it wants to fill its belly — but when it’s in the liquid shape it’s hungry in a different way. The individual cells are hungry, not for food but new genetic material, new DNA/RNA or whatever it’s called…’

Chris remembered all those locked cabins with the piles of empty clothes inside. She automatically looked down at the gap beneath the door, half-expecting to see some sort of black slime oozing its way inside. ‘There’s no defence against it, is there?’ She asked in a toneless voice. ‘When it decides to get us it will, won’t it?’

‘Don’t talk that way,’ said Paul sharply. ‘We can beat it. We will beat it.’

‘Those scientists didn’t.’

‘They were taken by surprise,’ he said quickly, ‘by the time they knew what they were up against it was too late. All we have to do is set ourselves up in a way that will make it impossible for that thing to get to us. And then we wait…’

‘Wait for what?’ asked Mark.

‘Help. It should arrive soon. Someone in the Brinkstone organisation must be wondering why they haven’t received any word from the platform recently. It must be about two weeks by now. Or there might be a regular supply drop soon.’

‘Or there might not be,’ said Chris.

‘Look, you don’t leave over 200 people stuck out here in the North Sea without some kind of regular contact.’ ‘Officially these labs don’t even exist,’ said Mark. ‘They probably go long periods between flights to and from the rig to avoid arousing suspicion.’

‘Well, I don’t think so,’ said Paul, becoming irritated, ‘but if anyone else has any suggestions on what we should do I’d love to hear them.’

No one did. Paul gave a resigned nod. ‘Okay then, first we go and fill the others in on all this, then we get organised. And from now on keep alert for anything that moves, no matter how small.’

There was no response when Paul banged on Alex and Rochelle’s door and he began to fear the worst. But then finally the door opened. To his surprise it was Rochelle, and she was naked. Then Paul got another surprise when he realized she was alone. ‘Ro, where the hell is Alex?’ he demanded as he entered the cabin, closely followed by the others. ‘Why has he left you alone?’

She looked dazed. ‘Alex?’ she said, frowning. ‘I don’t know. He went out. He didn’t come back.’

Linda was staring at her in astonishment. ‘Ro, why on earth aren’t you wearing anything? It’s freezing in here. I told you to stay as warm as possible.’

‘Warm?’ Rochelle looked at her blankly.

Linda began picking up her clothes from the floor. ‘Come on, I’ll help you. Then you’re going back to bed.’

Paul was already at work blocking the ventilator grill. ‘That’s just great,’ he muttered. ‘Alex is wandering round out there on his own. Serves him right if that thing gets him.’

‘Good riddance,’ said Chris darkly.

Mark, trying not to watch as Linda assisted Rochelle into her clothes, was sincerely hoping that Alex was alright. It wasn’t Alex he was worried about, of course, it was the heroin. If he didn’t get a fix soon…

‘Mark, you and Chris stay here with Ro,’ Paul told him, ‘Linda and I are going to go collect the stuff we need. When we leave see if you can block the gap under the door. ’

‘What stuff are you going after?’ Chris asked him. ^!

‘Food, tinned fruit… and extra weapons. Including those two home-made flame throwers we left in one of the kitchens with the rest of the guns.’

‘What’s the use?’ asked Chris listlessly. ‘If flamethrowers were any good against that thing the people who used them would still be around.’

Paul turned on her. He grabbed her by the arms and shook her violently. ‘Now listen to me, Chris! That sort of crap isn’t any help at all. You may be ready to give in but I’m not! I intend staying alive. So does Linda. But our chances are better if we all try and lick this thing together. You understand me?’

Startled, she nodded yes.

Paul let go of her. ‘Good. Now everyone stay right here until we get back.’

Later, as he and Linda edged their way warily down the corridor towards the kitchen Linda said, ‘That was a good speech you made to Chris back there. You almost had me convinced. But what do you really think our chances are?’ He was about to lie to her but decided against it. He was tired of playing the hero — the man with all the answers. The strain was getting too much. It would be a relief to share some of the burden with Linda — she was. tough enough to handle it, he knew — so he told her the truth. ‘Our chances are shit. That thing has been designed to survive. It’s probably unkillable. It can adapt to take anything that’s thrown at it. As Shelley said on one of those tapes — it’s instant evolution. Unless…’ He paused.

‘Unless what?’

‘Unless there’s a way of destroying it faster than it can adapt. That’s why I think the flame throwers are our best bet. If we could incinerate the whole thing fast enough it might not have enough time to develop the means of protecting itself. Or there’s another possibility. If we could hit it at once with two different types of danger — say we spray it with acid and then burn it — it might be able to only adapt to one thing at a time. If the acid fails but the fire works or vice versa…’

‘Yes.’ She sounded doubtful. He knew what she was thinking. So her next words came as no surprise. ‘But that stufl can move pretty fast, can’t it?’

‘Apparently.’ Might as well continue being honest with her. ‘According to Mark it practically shot up the side of the crane cabin.’

‘So cornering it long enough to carry out some complicated manoeuvre isn’t going to be easy.’

‘No, not easy..’

They arrived at the kitchen and entered it slowly. It seemed full of potential hiding places for the creature and Paul felt very vulnerable and exposed as he moved to the centre of the room, his eyes scanning for the slightest indication of movement.

While Linda kept watch he then went and examined one of the flame-throwers. It was a jerry-rigged affair consisting of a fuel container linked to a cylinder of compressed air or some other gas. It looked as if it would be just as dangerous for the user as for whatever it was aimed at but he had no choice but to try it out.

He carried it over to the doorway. He studied the valves on the two tanks until he was satisfied he’d worked out which did what then he turned them on. There was a hiss of gas from the long nozzle he was holding. Nervously he lit a match and applied it to the invisible stream of gas. There was a flash and a blue-green flame extended from the nozzle. Taking a deep breath he aimed the nozzle through the doorway and turned the small handle at its base. A long jet of burning liquid was suddenly arcing its way some twelve feet down the corridor with a frightening roar. Caught by surprise, Paul could only stare at it in fascinated awe for several moments before he realised he was wasting precious fuel. Then, hurriedly, he switched it off.

‘Horrible,’ said Linda with distaste. ‘That’s the sort of thing only a man could invent. Imagine being able to use it on a human being.’

Small pools of burning fuel were spattered along the floor of the passageway. When he was certain they would go out harmlessly he turned and carried the device back into the room. ‘We won’t be using this against people. The thing we’re fighting isn’t human.’

‘No, but it has people trapped inside it, in a sense. People who can still feel and think.’

‘Some of the time, I guess. But they’re dead really. Except that…’ he frowned, not wanting to go on.

‘Except that they don’t know it. Or don’t want to know it.’ She said, and shuddered. ‘They’re dead and yet they’re still alive in a horrible kind of way. They’re trapped in a sort of purgatory.’

He could see the depth of her fear in her eyes and it alarmed him. ‘Don’t think about it,’ he advised.

But she wouldn’t leave it alone. ‘Paul, promise you won’t let it get me.’

Misunderstanding what she meant he said quickly, ‘Of course I won’t let it get near you.’

‘No. I mean if it looks as if we’re going to lose I want you to kill me first — before it can get me. I don’t want to become a… part of it… Do you promise?’

He looked at her and swallowed hard. He would never be able to bring himself to kill her, he knew that, but he lied and said, ‘Of course. I promise.’ And for her added peace of mind he didn’t tell her what Shelley had said about death possibly not being protection against the absorption of one’s personality by the creature…

Later, as he was piling up a collection of supplies on one of the tables she said, ‘There’s something else worrying me.’ ‘Yes?’

‘It’s Mark. He said the thing, the slime in the crane, didn’t attack him.’

‘That’s right.’

‘Paul, how do we know he’s telling the truth? What if it did attack him? What if he’s part of that creature now? Has been all along.?’

Patiently, Paul said, ‘He can’t be. He’s been with us when Shelley and the others, including good old Charlie himself, have made appearances.’

‘Yes, but Paul, how do we know there’s only the one creature?’

Paul stopped what he was doing and stared at her. It was a good question.

Chris was getting worried about Rochelle. There was some4 thing disturbing about the way she was lying there, her eyes wide open and watching both of them so intently. Mark, hadn’t seemed'to notice — he was too busy fighting a losing battle against his body’s craving for that damned drug — but it was beginning to get on her nerves.

Finally she got up and went over to her. ‘Ro, why don’t you try and get some sleep. You’ve had a pretty nasty experience. You need rest. You — ’ Suddenly she screamed and recoiled.

Immediately Mark leapt up, grabbing for one of the Ml6s. ‘What’s wrong? Is it here? Where is it?’

Shaking, Chris managed to regain control of herself. ‘I’m sorry. It’s nothing. My imagination’s working overtime. I’m seeing things.’

‘Seeing what?’ he demanded.

She shook her head. She couldn’t tell him that for a moment she could have sworn she saw Alex’s eyes staring out from Rochelle’s face…