Author: Kirk Straughen
Synopsis: The future Earth is threatened by horrors from interstellar space. Madness descends upon the world and James Morse is caught up in these tumultuous events as the sanity of every man, woman and child across the globe is threatened. Will our hero survive? will the Monsters of the Meteor destroy humanity? Will our world become one vast lunatic asylum of unmitigated horror? Read this wild story at your peril if you dare.
James Morse sat on the balcony of his small apartment that overlooked the eastern quarter of Metropia, national capital of Novum Genis. It was late evening and the city glowed with the soft light of lumastone* that cast its nacreous glow upon the stylish art deco buildings of the populous conurbation, painting them in an artistic harmony of light and shadow.
Above, the sky was a black dome studded with diamond stars whose blazing glory was undiminished by the pellucid illumination of the city, and in the inky heavens were other moving lights – huge airships that made their stately way to the docking towers of Mertopia’s landing field while far below, in the wide tree-lined thoroughfares, hummed sleek electric vehicles that sped by crowded sidewalks thronged with late night shoppers and patrons of the many cabarets for which the city was renowned, the pastel phosphorescence of their softly glowing eveningwear adding to the festive scene.
Morse drank in the sights and sounds of the city, which seemed to him to have a life all of its own – a huge dynamic creature of movement and vitality that never failed to fill him with a sense of wonder at human ingenuity. Perhaps his sense of satisfaction was slightly smug as he gazed upon the fruit of mankind’s intellect in this year of 2215, but who could really blame him – largely gone were the polluted, crime ridden cities of the early twenty first century, banished by advances in technology and social engineering to be replaced with the glowing wonder his eyes now gazed upon.
But civilization is a fragile thing – something that is often forgotten under the seductive power of technology’s influence: Climate change, which had caused so much havoc, had been brought under control – solar power now predominated, and huge atmospheric plants in Earth’s desert regions were drawing excess carbon dioxide from the atmosphere, and breaking it down into its constituent elements by a catalytic process.
Reforestation programs were well on the way to greening the devastated planet. Humanity was no longer threatened by self-induced extinction, but beyond Earth is the vast unknown – illimitable space, pregnant with mystery. Our world is but one of countless others that whirl about distant stars. Worlds of beauty ... and ones of horror also, the prelude of which now fell upon the naively contented man.
A glow in the eastern sky drew Morse’s gaze. At first it was just a speck, but in mere seconds had swelled to a raging crimson fireball that roared across the sky, slashing heaven’s blackness with the glare of its hissing rush. The man leapt to his feet in alarm. His chair overturned, but its clatter was drowned out by the sonic boom of the hurtling meteor which lit up the cityscape with the ruby flare of its actinic light.
Morse flung up an arm, stepped back in terror and tripped over the chair. He crashed to the tiles of the balcony as the meteor plunged to earth and struck the nearby parkland with the force of an exploding bomb. The flash of the blast lit up the night and the deafening concussion shook adjacent buildings. Ejecta hurled up by the tremendous impact came rattling down, cracking windows. A stone struck Morse a stinging blow; another ricochet from the table. He crawled madly inside and lay on the plush self-cleaning carpet of his bachelor-apartment, his heart hammering with fright.
After a time his nerves had steadied sufficiently for him to stand and as he did so he touched his temple – a gesture that activated the neural implant which connected him with Metropia’s communication and information network. Tuning into a news channel confirmed his suspicions: the fireball was a bolide – an exceptionally bright meteor that had survived ablation from atmospheric entry.
The newscaster’s voice rolled on in his mind to the accompaniment of images from skyeyes - automated surveillance drones controlled by the city’s artificial intelligence - which the implant projected on the visual centres of his brain. Several people had been seriously injured by flying debris, but were expected to make a full recovery. Fortunately, the parkland was largely deserted at this hour and Morse shuddered to think what the death toll would have been had the meteor struck during daytime.
Having heard enough to satisfy himself the danger had passed, he broke the connection and prepared for bed, confident that the authorities had the situation under control, and all was again well with the world.
Little did he realise how soon his self-satisfied illusions would be shattered.
**********
The following day found Morse on his way to work. The young man was assistant curator to the Museum of Antiquities – a stylish art deco building occupying nearly the entire length of Fifth Avenue. Morse, like many of his fellow citizens, preferred walking, for the air was fresh and clean, free from the noise and pollution of internal combustion engines, and the broad sidewalks were shaded by rose-trees – genetically engineered plants resembling hedge maple with its finely fissured and somewhat corky bark, but bearing masses of rose flowers that scented the air with delicate perfume.
It was early morning and the young man, with plenty of time to spare, had decided to take a detour to the parkland to see for himself the results of the meteor’s dramatic impact. Within about fifteen minutes he had arrived at the scene. A large crater at least ten yards in diameter marred the manicured lawn, and all about was strewn the ejecta from the blast. Many beautiful trees had been damaged by debris hurled up by the explosion, and the windows of a nearby building had been shattered by its shockwave.
The area had been cordoned off and the crowd of onlookers was being dispersed by officers from Mertopia’s Bureau of Public Security – heavyset hard faced men whose black body armour was a sharp contrast to the Grecian-like garments that were now the fashion of the age.
Morse hung back, hoping for a better view as the throng thinned out, and also not wishing to attract the attention of the security officers. Metropia wasn’t exactly a police state, but the enormous social chaos caused by climate change had left its imprint, and many governments were highly sensitive to any hint of public disorder. No, being on the receiving end of an agonising pain-ray was the last thing he wanted to experience should the officers get heavy handed.
Within a few minutes the area had been cleared of the curious leaving Morse alone. He drew several hard stares from the police, but when they saw he had no intention of coming any closer the squad returned to patrolling the perimeter of the exclusion zone, giving him a relatively unobstructed view of the scene.
Within the security barrier that surrounded the area of devastation, Morse could see a large ovoid tri-wheel vehicle emblazoned with an oil lamp wreathed in laurels - the University of Mertopia’s logo. A group of men and women, obviously technicians and scientists, were unloading equipment from the van size machine in preparation to analyse the meteor’s remains.
Morse was disappointed. From this distance he couldn’t see much detail, and there was nothing new on the information channels. He had arisen early especially to make this detour and wasn’t due at work for another hour. So, giving the exclusion zone and its hard faced patrol a wide birth, he decided to wander through those sections of the park that were still accessible and fill in time by enjoying the beauty of the day.
It was perhaps ten minutes later that he found the alien bioform. A glisten in the grass caught his eye and he knelt to better view the thing, his brow furrowed in deep puzzlement. The object was a seven inch tube, metallic green in colour with a spider web of silver veins upon its surface. The thing sprouted from the earth on a stem. Six diamond shaped leaf-like structures surmounted the apex of the cylinder, and from their centre rose three tendrils whose tips flared to flattened ovoids.
To say that Morse was perplexed was an understatement. His vocation as assistant curator required him to have wide ranging knowledge, but never had he heard of anything like this before. The thing, whatever it was, was obviously metallic, but at the same time possessed organic features associated with life. It was a contradiction that fired his curiosity to the point of incautiousness – he reached out and touched the thing experimentally.
Morse screamed. The powerful electric discharge sent him crashing to earth, muscles convulsing uncontrollably. He lay stunned for a moment, gasping from the shock, heart racing under fear’s goad. He was completely incapacitated. It was a terrifying feeling of utter helplessness while it lasted, but shortly he found he could move again, and with a groan got shakily to his feet. He stared at the weird growth, amazed that such a tiny thing could have so much power stored within it. The shock must have been a defensive response, but what on earth could it be?
On earth? Morse turned in the direction of the meteorite’s crater and chill fear came upon him with an unnerving suspicion. It was like nothing on Earth, which could only mean...
His wild speculations which, if proven true would be utterly fantastic, were cut off by a high pitched whine. Morse looked up and saw a skyeye rapidly descending. The black machine was x-shaped with whirling rotors mounted on the extremity of its six foot arms, and beneath the centre of its cruciform body was affixed a foot wide sensor sphere.
Had the skyeye seen what had happened to him and come to investigate? His surmise was confirmed when the machine hovered in front of him and spoke in the clipped tones of Sentinel - Metropia’s artificial intelligence - as the mobile eye in its sensor sphere coldly scanned him with a facial recognition program.
“Citizen James Morse,” Sentinel enquired, “you appear to have suffered some injury. Do you require medical assistance? Please report.”
“I’m not badly hurt, but that thing,” replied Morse as he pointed at the bioform. “I touched it and it gave me a nasty electric shock. I think it may be connected in some way with the meteor.”
The skyeye dropped lower and focused its sensors on the object. Several minutes of silence ensued, and then a human voice came through the machine’s loudspeakers.
“Citizen Morse, This is Professor Maxwell, head of the team investigating the meteorite. Sentinel has informed me of the situation. Stay exactly where you are. Do not move or the skyeye will use its pain-ray on you. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” replied Morse as a stab of alarm knifed him. What was going on? What had he done? Only a few moments before he had been walking through the park minding his own business and enjoying the sunshine and the scent of fragrant flowers, but now he had the terrible feeling he had been caught up in some inexplicable momentous event whose exact nature, though as yet undefined, was about to wreck havoc with his well-ordered existence.
Morse’s troubled thoughts were interrupted by the tramp of heavy boots. He turned and his unease grew even deeper – a squad of hard faced officers was marching at him, double time. It was a menacing sight – large aggressive men in black body armour – the officers who had been patrolling the exclusion zone. Sweat beaded Morse’s forehead. He felt as a rabbit must feel when a pack of hounds are after it.
The skyeye, seeing it was no longer required, hummed heavenward as the squad quickly surrounded Morse and raised their pain-rays in a most belligerent manner. Morse, already jumpy, stepped back involuntary as the police, aggressively shouting commands, thrust the black muzzles of their sleek weapons at him. It was the wrong thing to do on his part. The officers, thinking he was about to make a break for freedom, discharged their pain-rays.
The pain, when it hit Morse, was unbearable. It felt as if his entire body was being bathed in fire. He crashed to the ground and screamed in agony for a moment; then merciful unconsciousness blotted out the overwhelming torment.
* Endnote: Lumastone is a synthetic material resembling frosted glass that is incorporated into buildings. It absorbs sunlight during daytime and releases it at night, obviating the need for fluorescent lighting.
Morse stared moodily out of the tinted biohazard containment chamber in which he’d been confined – a transparent inflatable dome that had been set up within the exclusion zone. He now had a better understanding of his situation – the authorities, fearing he’d been contaminated with alien microorganisms and not wishing to risk the spread of some virulent plague for which there was cure had, upon Professor Maxwell’s advice, ordered his immediate apprehension and detention onsite.
The young man was only too willing to cooperate for the greater good of society – he had no wish to spread harm to anyone. But what he did have an issue with was the strong arm tactics to which he’d been subjected. The pain-ray, although agonizing, didn’t impart any physical injury to its victims, and for this reason the police were often overzealous with its use.
Morse had never considered himself an activist, but having experienced firsthand such excessive force the young man was now giving serious thought to joining the rising civil liberties movement, human rights having taken a battering over the previous century due to the social upheavals caused by global warming, and the necessity of imposing martial law to bring order from the chaos.
Trying to bring about positive change was something worth considering, but at the moment he felt a more pressing matter was before him. Morse shifted his attention to his greater worry – from what he could see at least a hundred more alien bioforms had been discovered within the immediate vicinity and were growing with alarming rapidity. He could see the nearest one from where he was standing. Only an hour had passed from the time of his initial discovery, and already the things were taller than a man.
His face grew grim as he focused his attention upon it. The general shape was the same – a silver veined metallic-green cylinder with leaf-like structures about its apex. The thing had increased in size proportionally and the three tendrils rising from the centre of the apex had grown to long tentacles several inches in diameter. Each of the flattened ovoids at their ends was now tipped with a faceted jewel-like structure that brought to Morse’s mind the flaring heads of cobras and the glaring eye of the monster Cyclops.
In addition to these changes were some others – four long tentacles had sprouted from below the stems of the leaf-like structures, and four jointed rods were growing from the life-form’s base towards the ground. Were they additional roots, perhaps? He turned away from the thing and the surrounding group of scientists clad in protective suits that were busy probing it with a panoply of instruments. Morse suppressed a curse. No one was telling him anything. His implant had been shut down remotely, cutting him off from the outside world, no doubt to prevent him from saying something that would cause a panic.
Well, at least he wasn’t completely alone – he had a physician for company. Technology had become miniaturised to the point of unobtrusiveness. No doctor from a previous age would have guessed the young woman, Dr Nina Aziz, was busy analysing the telemetry from the watch-like sensor strapped to Morse’s wrist that monitored his vital signs, and analysed his blood, searching for any hint of infection from alien pathogens.
Morse felt fine. He felt even better as he looked at the girl who was absorbed in her work. The sight of a pretty woman was a better tonic than any doctor could prescribe, or so he felt. She sat quietly, eyes closed as information scrolled across her mind via her neural implant – a device which had made radios, televisions, personal computers and mobile phones obsolete.
The doctor, raven haired and olive skinned, was undeniably attractive. Morse was a good judge of women’s figures, and even though she wore a bulky biohazard suit felt confident that what it concealed would not be disappointing. He wondered what kind of person lay behind her facade of detached professionalism and what she’d be like as a lover. The latter question, of course, would be difficult if not impossible to ascertain – most societies oscillate between periods of licentiousness and prudery, and in the present age it was prudery that dominated.
His mood quickly soured with that thought and he grew even grimmer when he saw a sudden look of worry come upon her face. Prickling fear rode him like a cruel horseman as he approached the girl – had she detected some virulent and incurable infection?
“What’s wrong?” he asked, forcing his voice to sound calm. “Have you found something?”
“No,” replied Dr Aziz as she opened her eyes. “I’m now satisfied you’re not infected with any alien pathogens. What is worrying me is the emergency broadcast that has just come through: over the past few minutes a wave of violence has swept the city – murder, rape, acts of mindless vandalism. The government has imposed an immediate curfew and the streets have been flooded with officers from the Bureau of Public Security.”
Morse looked as grim and shocked as the girl. Crime still existed, true, but in Novum Genis the murder rate was on average about one per year out of a population of eleven million. But now it seemed all hell had broken loose. What in Reason’s name could be the cause? His thoughts were interrupted by a gasp from his companion.
“More bad news?” he asked anxiously.
“The broadcast – it ... it’s been cut off.” She replied, her dark eyes wide with fear. “I heard a burst of maniacal laughter, then ... nothing.”
Morse had a sudden and sickening premonition of looming danger. He turned and stared out of the dome’s tinted transparency. The sight that greeted him sent a cold chill of dreadful conformation up his spine – a chaos of wild violence had erupted with utter suddenness among the meteorite investigation team. Men and woman, supposedly the acme of cultured intelligence, now tore at one another with the savagery of untamed beasts.
One scientist was down. The victor stood over him, howling with insane glee, his face a twisted mask of rage and hate as he stomped upon his lifeless victim’s head. And all about was a melee of surging figures that raged with utter madness in a frenzied mob bereft of all reason.
The young woman, who had moved to Morse’s side, looked on aghast. “It’s horrible,” she cried with a shudder. “It’s as if all those dark passions we’ve long repressed have been suddenly set free – an opening of a Pandora’s Box of the mind, but why ... how?”
Her speculations were cut short by the bursting open of the containment chamber’s airlock. In the hatchway stood a wild apparition of a man – the deranged thing Professor Maxwell had become. His eyes were wide, staring, and in their depths a look of shocking madness. His lips were drawn back in a rabid snarl and in his hand he clutched a heavy pick that dripped with dead men’s gore. For a moment the panting madman glared at Morse; then he giggled crazily and rushed the startled youth, his pick swinging in a wild whirl of utter savageness.
Nina screamed. Morse snapped out of his startled state. He ducked and felt hard steel brush his hair, then launched himself at his crazed assailant. Morse smashed against the older man and bore him to the ground. Maxwell grunted as he hit the floor. Morse was on him, wrestling desperately for possession of the pick. Nina looked on aghast as the professor, with the strength of madness, slammed his fist against her patient’s temple and sent Morse tumbling to the ground.
Maxwell scrambled to his feet. Spittle oozed from the corner of his snarling lips as he laughed insanely, raised the pick and brought it down in a savage blow. It was then that Nina hurled herself upon the madman’s back. The professor staggered. The pick slammed against the floor, missing Morse’s head by a fraction of an inch.
The madman flung off the clinging girl with wild strength. She stumbled back as he turned on her with deranged savagery. Morse, still groggy from the heavy blow, saw Nina stumble back as Maxwell swung the pick. The point caught her protective suit. Fabric ripped. She lost her balance, fell with a frightened cry.
Nina’s head struck the floor. The girl lay frighteningly still. Through swimming vision, as if in some nightmare, Morse glimpsed Maxwell raise the pick high above his head. A look of inhuman madness was upon him. A cackle of demonic glee bubbled up from deep within his throat as he prepared to kill the girl. Morse rallied his wits and strength. He kicked the professor behind the knee before the fatal blow could land. Maxwell fell backwards with a startled cry. Morse rolled clear as the pick struck the floor upright. The professor fell upon it, screamed sickeningly as he was impaled by the implement, and then collapsed in a bleeding heap upon the ground.
Morse staggered to his feet. Ignoring the groaning man he briefly glanced out of the dome. Bodies lay all about. During his fight with Maxwell the investigation team had slaughtered each other in a frenzy of unbridled of violence. Sickened to the core by the horrific sight he stumbled dizzily to the motionless girl and knelt beside her. A huge gash had been ripped in her biohazard suit where the terrible stroke had struck, and he peered through the gaping rent, steeling himself for what he feared he’d see.
Nina groaned. She opened her eyes, still dazed from the blow to her head. Morse’s touch brought her to her senses. “I’m not badly hurt,” reassured the girl as she gently pushed his fumbling hands away. “The pick tore only fabric. Please help me up.” Then, upon seeing the bleeding savant: “I must see what can be done for the professor.”
Morse watched as the doctor examined her erstwhile assailant with a variety of instruments stored in a belt about her waist, and then injected him with nanoids – autonomous microscopic machines that could perform internal surgery. Morse wondered if he would aid a man who had just tried to murder him, and came to the conclusion he would gladly let the bastard die.
The young man shook his head as he reflected. He considered himself a civilized person whose aggressive tendencies had been carefully channelled by analysts into the exciting but bloodless sport of robot boxing, where both contestants wore kinaesthetic suits that controlled every movement of the mechanical pugilists. Morse never dreamed he’d use his fighting skills to hurt another human being let alone take pleasure from it, and yet these atavistic feelings, feelings he had never realized lurked within him until this moment, had emerged.
How easily the veneer of civilization is stripped away, he thought, to reveal the savage that lurks within all of us.
“I’ve done what I can,” said Nina, interrupting Morse’s bleak introspection. “But this man needs the facilities of a hospital,” continued the doctor as she touched her temple to activate her neural implant and summon aid.
Nina cried, staggered. Morse caught her.
“What’s wrong,” he gasped as he eased the pale and shaken girl to the floor.
“I ... I don’t know,” she replied unsteadily. “When I made the connection it was like a wave of madness washing over me. If I hadn’t broken the link ...” Nina shuddered and left the rest unsaid.
Morse frowned as he knelt beside the doctor. “There’s a connection between these strange growths and this outbreak of insanity, I’m sure of it.”
He glanced in the direction of the nearest bioform and froze at the astounding sight that met his eyes. The four jointed rods that had been growing from the thing’s base had now touched soil, but it was not these new structures that made Morse gasp in amazement: The creature was rocking backwards and forwards – bending one way, then the other while the tentacles sprouting from its apex swayed and writhed like serpents.
There was a sudden crack as the central stem supporting it snapped cleanly from the base. The thing took a tentative step, then another – the four rods were legs, not roots. Morse gasped, leapt to his feet in consternation. The things weren’t merely strange plants. They were something else entirely – monsters from the unknown! A terrible sense of horror gripped him – a sudden vision of an alien world: all black chasms and rugged leaping crags silhouetted against a blood-red sky of utter nightmare.
Nina gasped. “Look over there,” she exclaimed as she rose beside him.
Morse jumped at her startled cry. The vision vanished. He followed her pointing, trembling hand. He swore. The other monsters, all one hundred of them, had broken free of their stems and were moving towards the ten foot high security fence. The things lined up before the barrier, swaying in apparent confusion. Morse grinned. The horror of it all had made him forget about the fence. The monsters were trapped within the barrier!
But the man’s elation was short lived: Rays lanced out from the gem-like organs of the monsters ovoid tipped tentacles. They struck the mesh barrier. It vanished in a cloud of flying sparks and roiling vapour.
Morse’s jaw dropped. He was too astonished to even swear. A flash of movement caught his eye. He jerked his head around and saw a chilling sight: The nearest monster, attracted by the couple’s movement, was now stalking menacingly towards them. The man cursed himself for a fool – he should never have taken his eyes off the thing. It came closer, nearer. Its gem-like organs pulsed with crimson light and Morse sensed with growing dread the firing of its deadly ray.
Morse grabbed the girl, dragged her down. Flares of crimson light exploded and a crackling hiss filled the air. The dome vanished in a cloud of boiling smoke and flame as the monster’s ray ignited the combustible synthetic. A flash of burning heat seared Morse. He instinctively held his breath. He was completely blinded by thick, choking vapour. Beside him Nina coughed violently - the poisonous smoke was slowly seeping through her damaged suit. He swept the doctor into his arms, staggered up, wild with barely suppressed panic. The girl’s weight dragged upon him. His eyes burned, watered. He wanted to breathe, to gasp air as he stumbled blindly through the swirling flame lit cloud.
Morse tripped on something, nearly fell. Fear beset him as he looked wildly about. He knew he couldn’t hold his breath much longer. The punctured dome was collapsing; the burning fabric would trap him in its flaming folds. Horrid death stared him in the face. Then a trace of hope arose – was the obscuring smoke thinning out to reveal an opening blasted by the rays, or were his reeling senses playing tricks upon him? Rallying his fading strength he tottered in that direction, burst through the flames and sucked reviving air into his heaving lungs. But the danger wasn’t over – another ray hissed out, missing the gasping man by a foot. Morse threw a glance behind him. Through the oily smoke he glimpsed the shadowy form of the monster whose aim was hampered by the swirling vapours. But not for long he feared – a rising breeze was tearing at the screening cloud.
Morse bolted frantically for a shrub, hurled himself within it as a gust of wind whipped away the smoke. Concealing leaves sprang into place and through a narrow gap in the foliage the sweating man saw the stalking monster scuttle into view. Had it seen him dive within the bush? He glanced at the girl and a new worry beset him – she was pale, unconscious. He quickly broke the seal and removed the suit’s fabric headpiece.
Nina coughed as fresh air revived her. Morse placed his hand upon her mouth. The girl’s eyes opened – wide; frightened. He motioned her to silence, whispered to her of the looming danger. The couple waited, hearts racing, as the nightmare thing stalked menacingly towards them.
Nina tensed. Morse gripped her. Any sudden movement might betray them. The thing paused beside the bush. The girl sensed its presence, trembled. Its ovoid heads dipped low. Its huge pulsing jewel-like eyes scanned the shrub. Creeping terror came upon the man as the crimson light of its baneful gaze filtered eerily through the leaves. He wanted to run, to flee in blind panic as terror clawed at him. Nina shuddered. She bit her lip to stifle a scream of primal fear.
The thing’s pulsing eyes drew near. The ovoid heads swayed like cobras on the verge of striking and terror reached the pinnacle of its nightmare crescendo. Then, when Morse was on the verge of losing all control and bursting from the bush in utter panic, the monster withdrew its questing organs and began to slowly move away.
Morse released his breath which unconsciously he’d been holding. He relaxed limply beside the girl, exhausted by the mental strain of the ordeal. It was some time before the couple stirred themselves to action, the man first carefully peering through the leaves to see if all was clear.
“Professor Maxwell,” gasped the doctor in sudden realisation as they crawled from their hiding place.
Nina raced towards the ruin of the smouldering dome, Morse quickly following. But when they reached the devastated site it was clear to even Morse that the man was beyond all mortal help. He lay deathly still, poisoned by the toxic smoke that had seeped through the puncture in his suit and charred also by the fire – twin blows that not even the sophisticated nanoids could counteract.
Morse watched silently as the girl examined her erstwhile patient, and as she did his attitude softened towards the savant. Before, he’d been enraged at the man’s attempt upon his life and that of Nina, but now upon reflection he saw the professor as the victim of some strange and unknown power rather than a brutal murderer.
Perhaps, he thought, it is easier to forgive the dead than the living.
The girl arose, breaking his introspection. She stood in thought for a moment; then turned to her companion.
“I must get to the hospital,” she said, worriedly. “There will be casualties, probably many if this chaos has spread throughout the city, and they’ll need all the doctors that are available.”
“I’ll come with you,” replied Morse unhesitatingly. “You may need help along the way.
Nina smiled, relieved that she would not be on her own. The girl knew unknown dangers lay before her and wouldn’t have asked Morse to risk his life for her. But had he not made his valiant offer she would have gone on alone nonetheless.
The girl removed her bulky and now useless suit and used it as a shroud for the professor, keeping only those items of equipment she deemed useful. The couple stood in silence for a moment in respect for the departed, then set off, passing through the exclusion zone, looking all about for signs of danger. But of the monsters there was no sign. Only the dead lay strewn about – the bodies of the investigation team, and beyond the fence the blasted corpses of the police who had been slain by the monsters fearful rays.
There was nothing for it but to go afoot - the tri-wheel vehicle that had brought the scientists to the site had been ruined in the wild fray. They passed through the breached fence, Morse ignoring the fallen weapons of the officers which were keyed to each man’s implant and would only fire for them. Both stepped upon the street. In the distance sirens wailed shrilly and columns of smoke could be seen rising from many different points about Metropia, but the immediate vicinity was as quiet and as deserted as a graveyard. It was clear to Morse that, with the discovery of the monsters, the exclusion zone had been expanded earlier to include several city blocks.
Moving on the couple traversed a number of streets until a commotion up ahead caused Morse to halt. Quickly, he grasped Nina’s arm, pulled the startled girl into a shopfront doorway and swiftly motioned her to silence. From around the corner of an intersection came the sound of running feet and the mad baying of the crazed mob in hot pursuit.
A man tore past, his pale face stained with blood and wild fear. Morse drew Nina further into the shadowed threshold. The pursuing pack swept by, howling out their mad bloodlust. In a savage rush they caught their fleeing prey. The girl’s hand flew to her lips. She turned her face away as the madmen fell upon their captive like feral beasts. A brief scream rang out; then dreadful silence came.
Morse, as sick and pale as the girl, tried the door for he knew they might be seen at any moment. The man bit back a curse – it was locked. Then his deepest fear was realised when a crazed killer glance in his direction. A gory piece of human flesh dangled from the madman’s blood smeared lips, and Morse went cold when he saw the murderer’s savage face was bereft of all humanity.
The madman stood. Others rose from their gory feast. A dozen eyes locked on Morse and his fair companion. Savage murder and much worse was in the mob’s frightening gaze. Nina shrank from the horrid sight. Her slight movement was like a running deer to a pack of famished wolves – as one the madmen howled with rabid gee and charged towards the cornered couple.
Morse cursed. They were trapped! His eyes darted frantically for a weapon as the crazed killers raced towards them. The desperate man saw two large ornamental vases on either side of the threshold. Seizing one he hurled it against the door. Glass shattered – the way was clear for escape, but the baying mob were now mere yards away.
The girl grabbed the other vase and threw it with all the strength born of wild fear. Her aim was true: The vase smashed against the leading killer’s face. The man went down. Others tripped upon him and tumbled to the pavement in a snarling heap. Morse grabbed Nina’s hand and both fled within the building.
As man and girl raced through the large department store each knew they had but gained a brief respite, for in a moment the savage pack were upon their feet and racing after them with crazed cries of mad bloodlust. Morse, familiar with the layout, led the way towards the sporting section at a rapid sprint, his mind racing with a desperate plan and within a minute his eyes alighted on what he’d hoped to find – the latest model of a personal flying platform that was all the rage.
Morse sprang on the disc and helped the girl aboard as the howling fiends closed upon them in a wild rush. He thumped a button and the ducted contra-rotating blades beneath the platform whined furiously to life. The disc lifted. The wild madmen leapt at the rising craft. One killer caught the platform’s edge, clung fast. The disc sank. Nina screamed as other clawing hands reached for them.
Morse swore, pushed a lever; jerked another. Their craft shot forward into the building’s spacious atrium, gaining height. They were out of reach of the crazed and shouting mob but the danger wasn’t over – the clinging madman still retained his grip and was now scrambling over the waist high railing about the disc’s circumference.
Nina screamed as the demented killer flung himself upon her, tearing at her garments with wild and bestial passion. Morse cursed, set the controls to hover, grabbed the would-be rapist by the throat and hauled him off the panicked girl. The fiend grabbed Morse’s wrists, broke his hold with a savage jerk. The young man lost his balance, crashed against the controls. The killer leapt on the dazed defender, sank clawing fingers into his victim’s throat. Morse fought to free himself as he gasped for breath. His vision dimmed, swirled. The fear of death came upon him in a wave of horrifying terror.
Nina struggled up. With a wild cry she seized the madman by the hair and wrenched with utmost violence. The killer howled, released his hold upon the fainting man. Nina flung the lunatic against the rail, tried to shove him overboard despite her Hippocratic Oath. Her primal fighting instinct was now in full control. Morse lay gasping for breath, unable to help. But the demented mob below weren’t passive spectators to the wild scene, for all the while they’d been hurling store goods at the hovering disc, and just as Nina was succeeding in her desperate task a well flung marble statuette crashed against her shoulder.
The girl cried in pain, staggered back. She grasped the disc’s control panel for support and accidently pushed a lever. The craft shot up like a rocket. The sudden movement sent the reeling girl crashing to the tiny deck. The killer, still clinging to the rail with feral strength, turned upon her, wild murder stamped upon his brutal face.
Morse, still weak from strangulation, looked up. He gasped in horror and with the dregs of strength flung himself protectively upon Nina as the hurtling disc struck the transparent ceiling of the atrium. The killer howled in agony as jagged glass ripped his face to gory ribbons, and as he tumbled overboard other razor shards fell in stabbing pain upon the youth shielding the girl, causing him to echo the madman’s tortured cry.
Morse gritted his teeth against the torturing fragments imbedded in his back as the flying platform burst through the high ceiling and hurtled skyward. Forcing himself to rise, he battled through the agony of his injuries and barely managed to bring the out of control platform to a halt. Nina groaned, drawing the badly wounded and reeling man’s attention. The girl’s clothing had been torn to shreds from the savagery of her attacker, leaving her naked to the waist. Her injuries, though, were thankfully minor – a slight cut upon one arm where a glancing shard had struck and several bruises inflicted by the clawing hands of her deranged assailant.
Nina opened her eyes as Morse, overcome by his wounds, staggered and sank on buckling knees to the glass strewn deck. The shaken girl pulled herself together. Ignoring her own hurts and immodest state she quickly came to the aid of the swooning man. She swept aside the shards with her sandaled feet and lay her groaning patient on his stomach.
She appraised his injuries with worried eyes – several spears of glass jutted from his blood-soaked back and his breathing came in laboured, ragged gasps. Fortunately, her medical equipment had not been damaged by the raging violence of her attacker, so the girl swiftly set about tending Morse’s wounds which, upon closer examination, proved not to be as life threatening as she’d initially feared.
“I’ve done what I can,” advised Nina when she’d finished. “You’re not in danger of dying,” continued the girl as she hastily rearranged her clothes to provide a more modest state of dress, and then took control of the flying platform. “But you need the type of care only a hospital can provide.”
Morse, weak from loss of blood, had strength enough only to mumble his heartfelt thanks as the machine set off at a rapid clip towards the city’s major hospice. As they flew towards the heart of the metropolis their elevation gave Morse a panoramic view of the unfolding catastrophe that had struck Metropia: wild mobs battled in the streets, looting, raping and murdering without restraint.
Skyeyes darted here and there observing the wild chaos ineffectually, for Sentinel – Metropia’s artificial intelligence – could not use violence against any citizen unless authorised by human authority. Deep worry settled upon Morse like a leaden weight with the realization of the extent to which society was unravelling, and he feared that only a handful of people in the entire city retained their sanity.
His roving eyes glimpsed the black figures of the police and despair settled more deeply upon him when he saw that they, too, had succumbed to the plague of wild madness, and had joined the raging throng in its orgy of violence and bestial debauchery. Tearing his gaze from the hellish scene of innumerable atrocities, Morse struggled to his feet and stood by the worried girl.
“You should rest,” she gently admonished. “The drugs I’ve given you will take time to restore your strength.”
“How can I rest,” he replied, “when I see what is going on about me?”
They flew on in silence for several minutes, each lost in troubling thoughts: Morse thinking of his family in far Nurvara, and hoping their distance from the chaos would protect them while Nina worried about her widower father, a biologist cum park ranger, who lived alone in the wilderness on the outskirts of the city. The girl knew she dare not use her neural implant to try and contact him least she be overcome by the weird madness that had previously assailed her. She was completely cut off, and the isolation fanned her growing fear. With the passing of another minute Nina’s thoughts were interrupted by a flash of movement in the sky, and the girl drew her companion’s gaze to twenty black objects that had come swiftly into view.
Morse grinned in response to her excited query. “They’re remotely controlled military fighters,” he confirmed, “similar to skeyes in appearance, but larger and armed with heavy weapons. I should have realised Sentinel would inform the Defence Force of the situation and its cause. Now those monsters will have something to think about.”
The couple watched as the squadron swiftly fanned out across the city, guided to their targets by the skyeyes. One fighter flashed by a quarter mile from them and they saw it dive towards a smaller parkland, one of many that beautified Metropia. Morse saw its target – a solitary monster standing in the middle of the garden. The thing’s tentacles were raised and from the jewel-like eyes of its ovoid heads sprang vertical shafts of ruby light in which glittered innumerable flecks of silver.
A ray of blazing light erupted from the energy cannon of the plummeting fighter. The deadly beam struck the monster. The thing exploded in a thunderous cloud of boiling vapour and hurtling debris. The victorious fighter climbed away and rushed towards another target. Of the creature there was no sign, only a smoking crater in the lawn where it had stood.
Nina looked at Morse and was surprised by the grimness of his face in the light of such a victory. She saw his eyes were locked upon the glittering columns that had been left behind when the creature’s rays had vanished with its destruction, for the motes they contained still rose heavenward like thin pillars of silver smoke, the wind now breaking up their shining symmetry.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “It’s been destroyed as soon will all the others of its kind.”
“I want to have a close look at those columns,” he replied. “Somehow, I don’t think these creatures will be defeated by simply blasting them with rays. Are you willing to risk a nearer view?”
“Of course,” replied the girl. “Any information we can glean to defeat these creatures is worth the peril of doing so, but I’ll stay upwind – we don’t want to inhale those particles, they might be toxic.”
Nina swiftly changed their course and in but minutes the flying platform had drawn level with the glittering and enigmatic motes that a strong wind was rapidly dispersing.
“Why, they’re as fine as dust,” she observed with a puzzled frown.
Morse’s knuckles whitened on the safety rail of the platform as a closer view confirmed his worrying suspicion.
“They’re spores,” he grated out. “Millions of minute spores sent skyward by the radiation pressure of the monster’s beams and now being dispersed by the wind.” Morse uttered a strong oath and continued: “By tomorrow the whole countryside could be crawling with these things, and when the spores are caught in the jet stream of the tropopause they’ll be scattered across the world. And wherever they go they’ll spread this plague of madness.”
He turned to Nina and saw the look of horror on her face as she comprehended the chaos before them being replicated on a global scale – every city in every nation a madhouse of crazed humanity. The girl leaned against the rail, weak from the sickening thought.
Morse’s gaze was drawn to the distant sound of an explosion and his face grew even grimmer for the monsters were fighting back. Across the city other crimson beams lanced up and struck six diving fighters with their frightening power. The machines vanished in a flare of sizzling light that left burning afterimages in his vision and a sinking feeling in his heart.
More fighters dived at the enemy, discharged their energy weapons. Red rays winked out as hissing cannon found their target, but numerous alien beams leapt up in swift response and scythed across the sky, cutting down the darting war machines. Morse had seen enough. He turned towards Nina who had been watching the unfolding battle with a growing sense of horror.
But before Morse could speak they too became a target for the alien monstrosities – a crimson ray stabbed up from a creature the skyeyes had failed to detect. The frightful beam struck the railing of their craft. Metal vanished in an explosion of flying sparks that showered man and girl with flecks of burning incandescence.
Nina screamed in agony, slumped upon the controls. The flying platform plummeted. Morse swore. He grabbed Nina as the machine tilted madly, nearly pitching both from its plunging deck. Grasping the joystick with his free hand, the sweating man fought to bring their craft under control, the swooning girl hampering his desperate efforts.
Another ray lanced at them, but the erratic movements of the vessel made the monster miss its target and instead the flashing beam struck a nearby building with explosive force. Morse winced as he was struck by flying debris from the blast. The ground rushed up, dangerously near. He wrestled with the diving mechanism. The recalcitrant machine bucked, swooped like a deranged bird, then righted and swept around the corner of the building mere feet from the ground as a final ray hissed passed the arrowing platform by the narrowest of margins.
Morse gained height, using the bulk of the skyscraper as a shield, then set the craft to hover and eased Nina to its deck. He examined the girl with considerable worry. Her tattered clothes, what little of them that remained, had failed to protect her from the spray of incandescent metal and her back was badly blistered where the white hot sparks had struck.
Fortunately, he recognised a cylindrical device that was part of the medical equipment Nina still retained, for it was one of the instruments she’d used to tend his wounds. Removing it from her belt he sprayed the aerosol across her injuries. The substance foamed and quickly hardened to a flexible bandage that contained an antiseptic, healing accelerant and nanoids that would clean her wounds and embed the debris in the hardened foam which would then fall off in several hours when the cure had been completed.
Nina regained consciousness as Morse completed his ministrations. She clung to him and wept, the stress of these dreadful events finally catching up with her. Morse held her in his arms, the girl taking comfort in his gentle touch.
“There is nothing we can do here,” he observed when at last she’d quietened. “Now is the time to think of family. Mine are in Nurvara and so are safe for the moment, but what of your relatives?”
The girl wiped away her tears and bit her lip with worry. “My father lives alone in a small park ranger’s cottage in the wilderness. Now I’ve seen how bad things are I ... But your injuries ...”
“Never mind my injuries” he replied, “let’s make sure your father is okay.”
Nina smiled her gratitude. Morse took the controls and under her direction turned the flying platform towards the outskirts of the city at maximum acceleration. Morse ran a critical eye over the power indicator of their craft and suppressed a curse. Their machine was a demonstration model and so its energy cells had not been charged to full capacity: there was only thirty seven minutes flying time remaining – just enough to reach the outskirts of Mertopia, or so he hoped.
The girl saw the direction of his apprehensive gaze and a worried look settled upon her face as he flew their craft above the futuristic city. Morse, wary of another attack, kept a nervous eye on the scene below. Gone was the sprawl of suburbia that was characteristic of earlier ages, replaced instead by towering apartment complexes with lush roof top gardens and broad communal balconies bright with flowering ornamental plants, and stylish frescoes reminiscent of Cubism.
They passed over the wondrous sight, now a scene of dark nightmare as the crazed inhabitants ran amok and set upon each other like savage beasts of prey. Morse saw one woman fling herself from a balcony to escape the pack of deranged rapists that pursued her. The woman fell tumbling, screaming to the hard pavement far below. He looked away before the fatal impact, sickened by the horror of it all.
Metropia’s outskirts approached and shortly they flew above the city’s encircling agricultural district. The farmlands of the past were noticeably absent: food – genetically modified taro, the staple of the age - was raised hydroponically in vast automated greenhouses that insulated high yield crops from frequent wild storms - the result of climate change, while other areas were occupied by enormous domed lakes where fish of many kinds were bred.
Beyond this scene was a rampant wilderness where the land had been reforested with trees, and the ecology restored with the introduction of endangered species from across the globe to form a balanced and self-sustaining ecosystem that was the nearest thing to nature that humanity could create.
As they passed beyond the agricultural district the power level indicator beeped its warning. Morse slowed their craft and brought the flying platform down towards the rain forest’s edge, its boundary marked by repulsion poles – six foot silver rods terminating in instruments resembling crystal tuning forks - that kept the wildlife from entering Metropia.
“It’s on foot from here,” said Morse as the machine touched earth. “I presume you know the way.”
The girl nodded. “There’s a dirt road just ahead. At its end is the ranger’s station where my father lives and works. The distance is about ten miles.”
They set off, Nina in the lead, and were soon walking down the dusty access road that plunged within the rampant wilderness. The jungle, for it was now tropical in these latitudes, pressed in around them – a sea of luxuriant and smothering greenery, hot and oppressive.
Minutes passed. Feral eyes glittered among the leaves. A sinuous shape glided through the undergrowth, stalking them. Morse caught a glimpse of it – a huge body, dimly seen, orange and striped with black. The man was unconcerned for repulsion poles lined both sides of the track, their humming vibrations keeping the predator at bay.
But then disaster struck – the comforting hum died away. Shock struck Morse. The repulsion poles had failed, but why? Perhaps some crazed technician had turned them off, or so he speculated. In an instant the full import of danger swiftly came upon him, and then his darkest fear came true as the snarling tiger – eleven feet from nose to tail of famished savagery - stepped cautiously between the useless mechanisms.
Morse lunged for a repulsion pole as the tiger warily advanced. He grabbed the mechanism, tried to rip it free to use as an improvised weapon. Nina joined him, leant her strength to his frantic efforts.
“Twist it like this,” she instructed.
The pole came free of its bayonet mount as the tiger charged. Morse thrust the mechanism at it like a spear. The beast dodged, wary of the pole from long years of unpleasant experience. It circled cautiously, low to the ground, ears laid back. A snarl rumbled from between its gaping jaws. Its tail lashed in a ferment of frustration.
Nina clung to Morse’s arm as the sweating man followed the stalking tiger. The big cat struck – a lightening sweep of one mighty paw nearly tore the pole from Morse’s grasp. Morse stumbled. The girl steadied him. The tiger lunged. He desperately thrust the mechanism at the beast, struck its nose. The cat leapt back, roared; then advanced again – a frightening manifestation of primal savagery.
The couple retreated. The furious tiger advanced, forcing them from the road and into the jungle. A nerve wracking cat-and-mouse game then ensued for an hour – the stalking tiger lunging from concealment, the desperate man fending off its brutal jaws. Morse slowly realised the savage beast’s intent: to exhaust him to the point of utter helplessness. A wild vision sprang upon him of Nina screaming as she died beneath its rending teeth and claws – a spur to the formulation of a frantic plan.
Morse, who was tiring fast, backed up towards a towering banyan as he fended off another wild lunge. “Quick,” he cried to Nina, “climb the tree.”
“What about you?”
“Just go,” he shouted, his eyes locked upon the savage, growling beast that paced before him.
The worried girl ascended, climbing the tree’s aerial roots that were as thick as hawsers, and from the safety of the banyan’s height observed a terrifying scene: The tiger stalked towards the man. Morse backed away. He stumbled, fell. Nina screamed as the beast, sensing victory, sprang upon the man. Morse saw it coming – six hundred and seventy pounds of savagery leaping at him, massive jaws horribly agape. His ruse of seeming weakness had worked. He held his nerve, swiftly braced the pole against the tree and jerked it up.
All too late, the pouncing feline tried to twist aside. The big cat screamed as it struck the pointed mechanism. A clawing paw missed Morse, but only just. The man rolled aside as the tiger crashed to earth, its razor talons scrabbling soil in a paroxysm of agony; its piercing roars shattering the stillness of the jungle.
Morse lurched up and retreated from the wounded beast which clawed at the pole embedded in its bloody chest. The man swore in disbelief as the bent mechanism came free and the big cat staggered to its feet. It took a shaky step towards him, then another.
“Climb,” shouted Nina, her voice shrill with wild fear.
Morse needed no further urging. He leapt, grabbed an aerial root of the banyan and hauled himself to safety. But then, when he’d nearly reached the girl disaster struck – the root, weakened by disease, broke with a resounding crack. Morse fell, struck the ground. He lay gasping, his breath knocked out of him. The tiger lunged. Nina cried in fear as the beast fell on Morse with a savage roar.
Nina, heedless of possible danger, scrambled madly down. Sobbing, she rushed to Morse’s side. The wounded big cat was clearly dead – blood oozed between its jaws, the strain of its final lunge upon the wound had killed it. But what of the man who lay beneath its lifeless paws? Morse groaned as she knelt beside him and the girl cried further, but this time it was with vast relief.
“Are you badly hurt?” she gasped.
“Not as badly hurt as the tiger,” replied Morse, trying to make light of the situation as he crawled from beneath the carcass.
“That was a terrible risk you took, facing that tiger alone,” said the girl, annoyed by his seeming flippancy. “You could have been killed quite easily,” she continued reproachfully as she helped him to his feet.
“So could you,” he observed, gazing at her. Then, seriously: “But I couldn’t let that happen.”
In that moment the world seemed suddenly still. Perhaps it was the primal setting that brought Morse’s feelings to the fore – the half naked girl whose ragged garments had been torn further by the clawing undergrowth, the conquered beast lying dead at his feet and the thrill of being alive. Civilisation and all its restraints seemed a world away. The Morse of yesterday wouldn’t have recognised the man who took Nina in his arms and kissed the startled girl with passion.
For a moment she responded with equal fervour. Then with a little flustered cry thrust him from her, and spun away. Nina’s hands fluttered across her breasts. She was now acutely conscious of her semi-nudity. The girl felt strongly attracted to Morse, but present circumstances and all the dangers thereof, and the inhibitions of her upbringing converged to act as a barrier to the expression of desire.
The spell was broken and Morse cursed himself for a fool. The liberal mores of past centuries were long gone and he should have known far better. He opened his mouth to apologise, but was he truly sorry? No, not really. His feelings for Nina had been slowly developing with each hour spent together – first as an attractive physician, then as a brave companion of constant danger, and now as much more than an object of mere desire.
“Come on,” he said gruffly, annoyed not at the girl, but rather expressing a growing rebellion at the hang-ups of an authoritarian and rather prudish society, “Night will fall in a few hours. We’d best be on our way.”
As Morse turned away Nina saw that the dressing she'd applied needed replacing, having been damaged in the frenetic fray as was hers.
"One moment," she said, worriedly. "We'd best check each others wounds."
Both set about the task and found, much to the relief of each, that the healing foam was swiftly working. Neither Morse's wounds nor hers had reopened - their injuries were nearly fully healed. A fresh dressing was soon applied to both and they set off in an uneasy silence, each wrapped in their own troubling thoughts as they sought the road. But within a few minutes it became evident that they were completely lost – the stalking tiger had driven them to retreat in an erratic manner, and so focused were they on the savage beast that neither had time to note the direction of their hurried flight.
Late afternoon passed, darkness fell and Morse began to really worry, for despite their constant searching no trance of any roadway could be found. He called a halt and turned to the hungry, weary girl.
“We’d best find shelter soon,” he said, then surveyed the cliff that blocked their way, and gazed upon the sparkling waterfall that tumbled from its height to feed the burbling stream that snaked within the shadowed jungle aisles.
Morse pointed to a stony shelf on the cliff about ten feet from the ground, one that was overhung by a frowning brow of rock. “That will have to be our haven for the night.”
Water from the stream quenched their thirst and then, tired and hungry, they struggled up the steep incline to their merger sanctuary and collapsed in weary silence upon the stone. Morse sat for a moment taking in the scene: the night was gemmed with stars and the full moon shed its light upon the waterfall, transforming the tumbling cascade to sheets of quicksilver. Trees swayed in the night breeze, which carried earthy scents and the cry of some distant animal to the thoughtful man.
Morse turned to the girl. She was asleep despite the hardness of the ground and gnawing hunger, exhausted by the many ordeals they’d undergone. Nina lay upon her side, one arm pillowed beneath her head. Moonlight bathed her in highlights of light and shadow, accentuating her beauty.
A strand of hair had fallen across her face. Morse reached out and gently brushed it aside. The girl stirred at his touch and the man sighed. Morse lay back and stared at the stars. Here he was, a civilised man reduced to the level of a Stone Age savage. A wry smile curved his lips. At least a caveman would have known how to make fire and feed his mate.
His mate ... Again, Morse turned to the sleeping girl and gazed upon her naked beauty, his passions stirring despite his tiredness. He reached out with a hand that trembled with desire to touch her intimately, but then held himself in check – what he wanted was her love, not her hatred, which molestation would surely earn him. With a muttered oath of frustration he sank back and gazed unseeingly at the glory of the heavens, his mind a tumult of wild emotions.
It was some time before he fell asleep.
**********
A scream jerked Morse from slumber. He rose to an elbow and looked swiftly about. There was no sign of the girl. Another cry jerked him to his feet. Fear knifed him as his eyes fell upon the scene below: Seeking privacy, Nina had left the sleeping man to bathe in the stream, and so engrossed in her ablutions had she been that only now had the girl seen the terrible danger.
The thing stood on the further bank, its heads swaying like threatening cobras. Nina turned to flee. The monster scuttled within the stream. A whipping limb cracked out and coiled swiftly about the girl. She cried in horror. Her arms stretched out to Morse imploringly as she was effortlessly hauled aloft, then Nina screamed again as she was jolted by the creature’s voltage.
Morse swore. He had no weapons. The frantic man made a running jump at the monster, hurling himself from the rocky ledge. His heels slammed against the creature’s body, drove it backwards. Taken by surprise the thing lost its balance, splashed within the stream. Morse and the girl tumbled after it. The man surfaced, dashed the water from his eyes and saw Nina lying face down, shocked into helplessness. He grabbed the dazed girl, dragged her to the bank.
The frantic man threw a glance over his shoulder, cursed violently – the monster had levered itself upright, was preparing to discharge its deadly ray. There was no time for decorum - he dropped the coughing girl on the bank and flung himself at the alien. Morse crashed against it, spoiling its aim. The water boiled furiously where crimson rays lashed the surface of the stream.
Morse bit back a cry of agony as he and his adversary plunged within the scalding water. His groping hand found a rock. One of the thing’s heads arched up. He hurled the missile. The monster’s blazing eye shattered. Sparks erupted. Morse was flung back by a powerful electric discharge from the wound. Desperately, he tried to save himself, but the shock had sapped his strength. He slipped beneath the water. The stream closed over him, smothering him in its watery embrace.
Nina, who had recovered somewhat, gasped in horror as Morse disappeared beneath the surface. The girl forced her aching body into motion as the wounded monster thrashed about. She seized Morse with the strength of wild fear and with a mighty effort hauled him to his feet. The injured man leaned heavily on her. Nina saw he couldn’t walk. The girl swore, heaved him onto her shoulder, her knees nearly buckling under the weight of his brawny frame.
The monster reared up as the girl staggered from the stream. It swayed drunkenly as she stumbled towards the cover of the jungle in a desperate bid to evade her fell attacker. The thing’s undamaged eyes, blazing with the malefic light of furnaces, swung towards her. Twin rays erupted from those glowing orbs, but the girl had stumbled and this combined with the creature’s injury made it miss its mark - the deadly beams struck a tree instead, blasting part of it to matchwood.
Flying debris struck the girl. She cried in agony; fell. Morse crashed down beside her, still helpless from electrocution. Nina tried to struggle up through the pain, but now exhausted from her efforts it was hopeless. All she could do was watch in helpless fear and horror as the monster’s fiery orbs locked upon her for a second shot that couldn’t miss at point blank range.
As the creature locked its deadly gaze upon Nina a tremendous cracking burst upon her ears. The girl gasped – from the edge of vision she glimpsed the tree that had been blasted and weakened by the ray begin to topple. The jungle giant was falling – a Titan’s monstrous club that was crashing down towards of her.
The creature, which was about to fire its lethal beam also saw it. The thing hesitated, tried to scuttle clear but wasn’t quite fast enough. The tree struck. Nina screamed. The monster was driven to the earth. Sparks exploded from its shattered body like fireworks as the ground shook with the booming impact of tons of timber colliding with the soil.
Nina lay trembling. The huge bole of the tree, at least three yards in diameter, had missed the girl and her companion by the narrowest of margins. Morse, who had now recovered sufficiently to move, turned towards her.
“Are you all right?” he asked, and then regretted such a foolish question for clearly she was in a state of shock and couldn’t speak.
Carefully, he gathered Nina in his arms, carried her to the stream and bathed her. The cool water and the application of first aid soon brought her to normality.
“Come,” said Morse as he helped the shaken girl don her tattered garments. “We can’t stay here,” he continued, pointing at a glittering foot high growth on the riverbank several yards away.
Nina paled slightly when she saw it and cursed her inattentiveness. The thing was a monster, not fully gown but in the early stages of development - spores were clearly settling out of the atmosphere and germinating with the coming of the light. The girl shuddered. How many of the creatures were out there, fully grown, like the one that had just attacked her?
“Where to,” muttered Morse to himself as he looked about and ran his fingers worriedly through his thick blond hair. “We must go, but in which direction?”
“There is a small chance,” said Nina prompted by his words, “that if we follow this stream it will lead us to my father, for a watercourse like this runs by the compound where he lives. I would have mentioned it to you last night, but I was so tired I just couldn’t think clearly.”
“Never mind that,” replied Morse with a smile. “Let’s follow the stream. As you say, it’s a chance.”
Both set off in the direction of the flow, pushing through the crowding undergrowth that lined the watercourse. It was hard work, forcing passage through the thick ferns, but easier when compared to wading through the knee deep water of the stream. After an hour both had to stop and Morse began to worry – lack of food and the strenuous nature of their exertions would soon combine and leave them completely incapacitated.
He gazed sideways at Nina. She sat on the log next to him, sweat streaked, weary and naked to the waist. She’d long given up trying to cover her nudity – it was a hopeless battle given the shredded state of her attire and the clawing foliage that constantly tugged her ruined clothing. Morse’s heart went out to the girl, but there was little he could do – his own apparel was in an equally dilapidated state.
The man looked about and his mood lifted slightly – not far from him was a small low-branched tree laden with plumb-like fruit borne in small bunches, and varying in colour from purple to bright red. Morse touched the girl’s shoulder and drew her attention to the growth.
“That’s red mombin. My father has some growing in his compound. It’s quite edible,” she replied excitedly to Morse’s query. “Come on,” continued Nina as she stood. “I don’t know about you, but I’m ravenous enough to eat the entire tree, bark and all.”
Morse laughed, and soon they were sating their hunger on the firm, glossy viands whose aromatic yellow flesh proved to be very juicy, and possessed of a rich plumb-like flavour.
After the meal and an hour’s rest both were sufficiently restored to continue their arduous journey. It was about midday when Nina disappeared behind a canebrake to relieve herself in the stream. Morse paced in nervous agitation. He thought he’d seen something gleaming in the undergrowth about ten minutes ago – sunlight glinting on a monster’s shiny integument, or merely his imagination’s misinterpretation of something innocuous? But what could he do? He couldn’t very well stand there and watch the girl, and he didn’t need to tell her to be careful. But even so the fact she was out of sight made him worry considerably.
“Nina,” he called loudly, “are you okay?”
No answer came. Again he called, this time with greater urgency, but only disturbing silence greeted him. Fear for Nina spurred Morse to action – he dashed around the bamboo thicket and came upon a scene that chilled his blood: A huge anaconda, at least fifteen feet in length, had flung its coils about the girl, crushing her to breathless speechlessness. She lay helpless, half in the stream, her head barely above the water.
In an instant Morse flung himself on the brute. He grabbed its head, dug his thumbs viciously into its eyes. The snake hissed, writhed. Its tail whipped around, coiled about the man’s waist. Morse gasped as the anaconda’s powerful muscles tightened, began to crush his ribs. Desperately, he shoved his thumbs deeper into its slitted orbs.
The brute released the gasping girl and now gave its full attention to the man. It rolled into the stream, dragging Morse with it, trying to drown him. Morse could feel his strength giving out as he plunged beneath the surface, unable to breathe and weighed down by two hundred and twenty pounds of furious serpent.
With a burst of terror fuelled energy he tore out one eyeball. The anaconda convulsed in agony. Its grip eased and Morse fought clear of its constricting coils. He burst above the water, gulping air and trembling form his exertions. But the danger wasn’t over – the brute, feeling cornered, came at him: Its head shot up, fanged jaws agape. It darted like a lightning bolt.
Morse caught the brute just behind its head, but the force of its attack knocked him backwards onto the bank. The serpent’s clammy length slid over him. Once again it tried to crush him in its coils. Morse kicked out feebly, desperately trying to knock it off. The brute’s remaining eye glittered with malevolence as it sensed its prey rapidly weakening.
Nina, who was still enfeebled from the snake’s mauling, watched in horror as the gaping jaws inched closer to the man’s throat. She tried to struggle up but hadn’t as yet sufficient strength. She collapsed with a sobbing cry as the relentless jaws came nearer and nearer, unremittingly forcing Morse’s trembling arms ever downwards. Then, just as the serpent’s fangs were about to fasten fatally upon his throat a rifle shot cracked out and the brute’s head exploded, spraying Morse with stinking gore.
As Morse, badly shaken and bruised, shoved the clammy carcass off his chest he saw his saviour emerge from a thicket on the further bank. The man was kitted out in a chameleon suit which, like its namesake, actively changed colour and patterns to provide camouflage. The stranger was in his mid fifties and powerfully built. His features were rugged and his beard was cut off square just below his blocky chin. In his arms he cradled an antique hunting rifle which, by rights, should have been in a museum. It was the glint from the weapon’s telescopic sight that Morse had spotted earlier.
The stranger ignored Morse. He leapt into the stream. Nina cried out in recognition: “father,” she sobbed as the man knelt worriedly beside her.
“There, there,” soothed the scientist as he calmed the crying girl and tended to her injuries. “Here,” he continued as he doffed his backpack. “I’ve brought fresh clothes for you.”
As Nina dressed her father turned his attention to Morse who lay in sprawled exhaustion in the dirt, and looked him up and down with a scowling, hawk-like stare which the young man felt was rudely belligerent. No doubt the scientist, seeing his daughter’s semi-naked state, and guessing she’d been alone for some time with a youth – whose begrimed and dishevelled appearance was the nadir of respectability – now assumed Morse had attempted all manner of improprieties on the girl.
“Who are you?” snapped the scientist with blunt disapproval and suspicion.
Morse hid his ire behind a facade of forced civility as, despite his weakness, he stood in an effort to recover his dignity. He introduced himself and thanked the man, then succinctly outlined what he and Nina had experienced. “But how did you find us?” he concluded in a friendly manner.
“There are sensors dispersed throughout this wilderness,” explained the scientist. “I would have spotted both of you earlier, but was distracted by my experiments on a meteor creature that I captured. What’s left of the government, and there isn’t much, has been evacuated from Metropia. The situation is, as I am sure you are aware, chaotic. Spores have been germinating everywhere since daybreak, and the authorities need all the help they can get in dealing with this overwhelming menace. But that’s quite a story you’ve recounted with its hair breadth escapades. It sounds like something out of an archaic novel.”
Now it was Morse’s turn to scowl. By his tone Professor Aziz clearly doubted his account, probably believing he’d exaggerated their ordeals in order to elevate his status with the respectability of heroic manliness.
“If anything James has underplayed his role,” said Nina who was now attired in jungle gear and could see harsh words hovering on the tip of Morse’s tongue. “What have you learnt from your experiments, father?” she continued to distract him and head off the verbal gunfight that was clearly looming.
“Quite a lot,” replied her father turning to her. “But I’ll tell you on the way to my compound. It’s not far from here.”
After a short rest the party set off with Morse bringing up the rear as father and daughter became immersed in technical discussions of alien biology. The young man felt rather left out of the conversation and considerably reproachful towards Yushin Aziz – the man was an utter boor. Besides that as Nina’s father his first priority should have been to find his daughter and make sure she was safe, not research on some bloody specimen.
But then a vision arose within his mind: The monsters springing up like toadstools everywhere, spreading toxic madness and destruction in their wake. The entire nation would soon be one vast madhouse, with the frightful scenes he’d witnessed in Metropia repeated in every other city. Morse’s mind shied away from the scenes of horror conjured up by these disturbing thoughts. Perhaps Aziz’s priorities, he grudgingly considered, might possibly be correct.
The young man would no doubt have felt considerably better if he’d known Nina’s feelings for him had blossomed into love. The sight of him valiantly fighting to save her, the dreadful fear for him when the serpent seemed on the verge of victory and all his other acts of kindness and selfless heroism had at last combined with wondrous effect and it was only her domineering father’s inhibiting presence that prevented her from revealing the true nature of her feelings.
Morse, not being a mind reader, was oblivious to this transformation, so he refocused his attention. From what he could understand of the conversation he overheard the monsters were silicon-tin based life forms, with rare earth elements such as yttrium completing the chemical basis of their weird metabolisms. The madness they brought appeared to result from some form of radiation that impaired the prefrontal cortex of human beings – an area of the brain that controlled the limbic system – the source of raw and primitive emotions and behaviour. Those with neural implants were vulnerable as these devices appeared to act as conduits for the alien’s emanations.
Nina’s father had been in his mid thirties when neural implants had become available and was one of a minority who hadn’t undergone the surgery, preferring to use less intrusive technology such as flexipads – a cloth-like device of flexible electronics that could be folded with the ease of a handkerchief.
With the passing of twenty minutes the party arrived at the clearing where the ranger’s station was situated – a white dome-shaped building with arched doorways and circular windows that stood in the centre of a tasteful garden based on ideas derived from Japanese landscaping. A short walk brought them to a graceful bridge of oriental architecture which spanned another stream flowing by the compound. Crossing this they entered the garden and from there the scientist’s spacious abode.
**********
It was late afternoon. Morse sat in a comfortable chair by one of the circular windows that gave a splendid view of the garden. A shower, clean clothes and a full stomach, however, hadn’t dispelled his growing sense discontentment. Morse looked restlessly about the lounge room, taking in the tasteful replicas of ancient Egyptian artefacts – idols of strange gods and reproductions of frescos found in the tombs of the Valley of the Kings: The house and garden masterfully showcased Yushin Aziz’s Asian and Middle Eastern heritage.
Being alone with his thoughts wasn’t helpful to the young man’s state of mind – Nina was assisting her father with his experiments, and the biologist had made it clear that Morse would simply be in the way if he tried to help. He scowled at the memory of that blunt conversation, and couldn’t help but feel that Aziz was deliberately keeping Nina away from him.
Morse muttered an oath and rose from his chair, determined to confront the scientist and get to the bottom of his indefensible hostility. It was then that a flash of light from the edge of vision drew his eye. Morse turned and swore. Through the window he saw a hoard of monsters scuttling forth from the dense verdure of the rainforest.
Quickly, he dashed to another pane and through the glass beheld a similar scene. Morse went cold. Had Aziz, once again immersed in his research, been oblivious to the danger despite the sensors dispersed throughout the wilderness? The creatures had been converging on them from every side for many hours, and now they were utterly surrounded. Their place of refuge had become a lethal trap.
Morse tore his horrified gaze from the stalking hoard, glittering sinisterly in the fading rays of the setting sun. He dashed through the house and down the stairs to the basement laboratory. He tried the heavy door – it was locked!
“Open up,” he shouted as he pounded on the thick pyrolex alloy of the portal. “Get your gun, professor. The monsters are attacking.”
But there was no response to Morse’s frantic warnings. Suddenly, the dreadful truth struck him like a punch below the belt and he sagged sickly against the door: Aziz had known the creatures were coming and had locked him out here to die, to be blasted to ash by the alien monstrosities. But what had he done to incur such vicious enmity from the scientist?
An explosion shook the building, shattering Morse’s train of thought. The things were breaking in. He was cornered and there was nowhere to run.
Again, Morse hammered frantically on the door as a wash of crimson light from another ray flashed down the stairwell. Above, a section of the wall crashed down and in his mind he saw the frightening scene – the hoard of sinister creatures stalking through the breach. He gazed up the stairs and drew upon his courage to face the end.
A shrill cry jerked him round – a woman’s scream that sounded from behind the door. What was happening? What was going on in there? Nina in danger! Morse hurled himself against the barrier with frantic strength, bruised his shoulder. Again he flung himself recklessly at the hard alloy. The door opened as he struck it and he stumbled in to be confronted by a shocking scene.
The scientist grappled madly with his daughter who had managed to break free and unlock the door. Her light apparel into which she’d changed had been torn from her in the violent struggle. Aziz’s face was a storm of lust and fury as he wrestled with her.
Morse rushed forward and grabbed the man, spun him round and smashed his fist against Aziz’s chin. The scientist staggered back, a wild look upon his snarling visage. He came at Morse, arms swinging like a demented boxer. Morse was driven back under the furious assault, his guard high to ward of the flurry of vicious punches. From the edge of vision he glimpsed through the door strange shadows creeping down the stairs.
“Lock the door,” he yelled.
His cry spurred the frightened girl to action. Nina slammed the door, glimpsed Morse duck a savage blow, and saw him ram his fist into her father’s gut. The scientist was bent double by the frightful punch. Morse took advantage of his winded foe, slammed a knee into Aziz’s face and sent him toppling in a senseless heap upon the floor.
Morse swayed upon his feet, bruised and bleeding from an ugly cut above his eye as he gazed upon his felled opponent with disbelief. Kneeling, he tore strips form the scientist’s lab coat and bound Aziz, and as he worked wondered what the hell had happened to the savant. The biologist was a boor, true, but this behaviour seemed way out of character for the man.
The sobbing of the girl drew his gaze. She had crumpled to the floor in delayed reaction. Morse stepped swiftly to her side. He face grew grim when he knelt and saw the rope marks about Nina’s wrists and ankles, and the overturned chair from which she’d managed to free herself.
Nina flung her arms about him and wept hysterically. “I could hear you,” she sobbed. “I knew the monsters were coming, and father...” The rest dissolved into further tears.
“Your father isn’t badly hurt,” he said, “If that’s any solace considering what has happened.”
Morse held Nina in his arms and sought further words to comfort her. Then it came to him: He remembered reading that early anthropologists had speculated on the origins of the family. They hypothesised the dominant male of prehistoric tribes had, in a similar manner to a rutting stag; procured all females including his own daughters for the purpose of procreation. This situation, it was theorised, had been brought to an end by a rebellion among the sons who had been driven into exile like young males from a pride of lions. These sons, or so the anthropologists speculated, had banded together and overthrown their tyrannical fathers, divided the females among themselves and put an end to incest, thus creating the type of family modern humans are familiar with.
This hypothesis had been discredited for lack of evidence. However, if the strange emanations from the monsters caused humans to revert to atavistic types, then there might be some truth to it. Aziz, although lacking an implant, had been in close proximity to a captured specimen for considerable time, and perhaps prolonged exposure to the radiation was having an effect. He said as much to the sobbing girl.
“Then my father, seeing you as a sexual competitor and driven by jealousy, tried to kill you in order to have me for himself, for he could sense that I love you.” Nina dropped her eyes, flushing at the boldness of her confession. “The end seems near,” she murmured, “and I have to let you know my true feeling before ... before it’s too late.”
For a moment Morse couldn’t believe what he had heard, then the truth dawned on him and, despite the peril they were in, it felt as if the sun had burst upon the world with all the glory of its warmth and light. But as Morse moved to take Nina in his arms his joy was perversely crushed by sudden danger.
“The door,” she cried as she stood and backed away, “It’s getting hot.
Now Morse could also feel the waves of fiery heat radiating from it. Cursing in frustration, he and Nina hurriedly retreated. Both looked on in alarm as the metal began to glow - at least one monster had turned its rays upon the barrier.
“How much heat can that alloy withstand,” asked Morse with undisguised worry.
“This basement was built as a bushfire shelter. Pyrolex’s safety rating is two thousand degrees,” replied the girl. “Any higher than that and this room will become a furnace,” she continued as she grabbed her father beneath his shoulders and dragged him from the rising heat.
Morse leant a hand and they carried the unconscious man to the rear of the laboratory and laid him on the floor. It was here that Morse glimpsed the captive monster through the doorway to another room. Aziz had shot the thing’s eyes out at long range, netted it and hauled it to his lab. The creature had been confined in a makeshift cage of hastily welded steel rods. The alien was violently shaking its prison with its gleaming tentacles, eagerly sensing the nearness of its brothers, and Morse suddenly realised why the others of its kind were converging on them.
“That thing – it must be broadcasting a distress signal. We’ve got to kill it,” continued Morse as he looked frantically about for a weapon. “When it’s dead the rest might stop trying to cut their way in here to rescue it.”
“Here,” said Nina, passing him a heavy steel rod left over from the construction of the cage. “Will this be good enough?”
“No,” shouted Aziz who had regained consciousness. “You can’t kill it,” he continued wildly as he struggled against his bonds. “I’ve just begun my research on the creature.”
“Father, please,” implored the distressed girl as she moved to quieten him.
Aziz screamed profanities. The madman’s muscles bunched. He tore free of his makeshift restraints, thrust aside his daughter and rushed Morse with a look of brutal murder in his eye. Unwilling to kill a sick man Morse dropped the rod and slammed his fist against the scientist’s chin. The savant reeled from the savage blow. Morse caught him in a stranglehold and jerked him round.
“See,” he shouted to the gasping man. “That door is red hot. Even if it doesn’t melt we’ll die of heatstroke. Within minutes the temperature will be unbearable. I’ve got to kill the thing.”
“Look out,” shouted Nina in alarm and disbelief.
Morse turned and swore. The imprisoned monster, which had never ceased the violent shaking of its cage, had achieved its fell intent: One weld had snapped; then another broke and in one swift explosive movement the rods were torn apart and it was free. Though blind the thing had other senses and with swift unerring speed charged the struggling men.
The monster’s whipping limbs lashed out as Aziz, still fighting mad, hurled Morse aside and saved him unintentionally. The scientist screamed, reeled from the creature’s frightful blow, collapsed upon the floor blood spurting from the ugly gash across his chest.
Morse leapt up and grabbed the rod as Nina ran to aid her father. He thrust the pole at the creature, distracting it. Though blind other senses enabled it to turn on him, limbs striking like cracking bullwhips. Morse ducked, lashed out with a wild blow that sent the monster crashing to the floor.
In the brief respite he threw an anxious glance at the door and cursed. The portal was now white hot. The metal began to run like wax before the frightened man and a wave of blistering heat struck him like a blow and made his senses reel.
“Nina,” he yelled. “If your father knows a way to stop these things now’s the time to tell us.”
Aziz, who retained enough sanity to see the coming of the end, spoke up: “They’re photovoltaic,” he gasped. “Yttrium deficiency ... Kill the lights,” he continued weakly, pointing with a trembling hand at the master switch.
The girl gasped the import of her father’s words as Morse, overcome by his exertions in the frightful heat collapsed. Nina staggered up. The place was like a blast furnace. She threw a glance at the door and groaned inwardly. It was now pierced by a gaping hole, and through the white hot breach she saw the other creatures gathering to advance.
Nina stumbled towards the master switch as the monster Morse had felled lurched erect. Affected by neither blow nor heat it came at her in a savage rush of fury as did its brothers who now surged within the room. With a wild cry of fear Nina leapt towards the panel, her darting hand flying for the switch. Her fingers closed on it as the pursuing creature prepared to strike. Then all went stygian as the room was plunged in blackness as dark as Satan’s pit.
**********
Morse, in a reflective mood, strolled through Aziz’s garden. It had been three days since he’d awoken in the basement laboratory. Night had fallen and with the lights off the gloom had been almost absolute, broken only by the faint and eerie glow of the cooling metal of the door. The crowding monsters were all about – dark and menacing shapes in the blackness; ones that twitched occasionally, their gem-like eyes glowing faintly like the dying coals of a fire.
The silence was broken by the weeping of the girl huddled by her father, who had succumbed to his mortal injuries. Morse crawled to Nina through the stifling blackness. The monsters stirred, their eyes grew slightly brighter. Nina flung herself into his arms as he touched her, sobbing with the knifing pain of grief. The creatures advanced, drawn by sound and movement. The couple clung to each other in the pregnant darkness. Death hovered perilously near as the aliens drew in upon them like an ever tightening noose. Escape was impossible.
Glowing eyes focused on them. Nina’s arms tightened about Morse. It seemed the end. Then the creature’s gleaming orbs began to fade, their movements slowed and they were still. Man and girl clung to each other through the long night, not daring to move until morning light, filtering down the stairwell revealed the scene – the monsters were utterly still, their gleaming bodies now tarnished and streaked with blotches of strange corrosion.
As Nina later explained the creatures needed yttrium, and without sufficient quantities their metabolisms couldn’t function in darkness. Earth’s soil didn’t contain enough traces of this element and so, in the absence of light they literally ran down like faulty solar batteries. Now they were dead, unable to survive the night hours. Of those millions of spores released very few successfully germinated – only several thousand of the monsters had grown to maturity. At the moment it wasn’t clear exactly why, but another rare element deficiency was suspected. What was clear, however, was that the menace to the world was over.
Morse brought his mind to the present. Things were still chaotic throughout the nation – many thousands had died as a result of the anarchy, and those who had been struck temporarily mad were still struggling with the knowledge of what they’d done whilst insane. The central government had utterly collapsed, and authority had devolved to the administrators of Metropia’s satellite cities – those which had escaped the worst effects of the monsters’ devastation. Despite the disaster Morse had hope for the future. Free of the conformist and repressive administration, many people in the surrounding municipalities were now openly speaking of political and social reform. It would be a slow process of course, and not without its own difficulties, but he felt that a better society would eventually emerge from the ashes of the old.
Rounding a curve in the winding garden path, Morse came upon the girl. Nina stood by the grave of her father, redeemed by his final act, who now lay at peace beneath the spreading boughs of a red kapok. It was where he thought he’d find her. Morse slipped his arms about Nina and she leaned against him, taking comfort from his presence. The man was vastly relieved that those he loved were safe. They stood in silence. No words were needed as the warm sun shone brightly upon the world.
THE END