Micro

Danny turned off the video screen and went back into the main hall, and took a drink of water from a bucket. He felt unbearably thirsty. Fluid had been leaking from his arm as the grubs began to break out, wetting his shirt and dribbling onto his pants. And the horror was that the grubs were spinning silk around themselves: they were turning into cocoons! Stuck to his arm! His heart was beating too quickly; he felt terrified, but knew what he had to do. It was kill or be killed in this world. He curled up in the chair by the fire. When Rourke returned from the hangar, he closed his eyes and feigned sleep, snoring to make sure Rourke got it.

He watched through slitted eyes while Rourke added fuel to the fire and climbed into his bed.

Danny got up, began creeping toward the tunnel.

“Where are you going?” Rourke asked.

Danny froze. “Just the privy.”

“Let me know if you need anything.”

“Sure, Ben.”

He went down the tunnel, past the opening to Ben’s privy, and hurried down the corridor to the hangar. Once he got there, he turned on the lights. There were three micro-planes, which to choose? He selected the largest one, hoping it would have the greatest range and most power. A cable led from the plane’s battery pack into the dirt floor. He unplugged the cable. He had forgotten to open the hangar doors.

The doors were held in place with metal pins. He pulled out the pins, and slid open the rolling doors, revealing a night sky studded with tropic stars, a waxing moon, and ghostly shapes of trees. He climbed into the cockpit and settled himself, buckled up, and touched the instrument panel.

At that moment, a terror struck him: he didn’t have a starter key.

He searched the control panel, and found a button with a power symbol on it. He pressed it. The panel lit up and he felt the plane lurch as the electric motor turned over. Ready for takeoff. His left arm lay on his lap like a prop from a horror movie; the sleeve had shredded as the grubs chewed their way out. Two more grubs had broken through his skin and begun to spin cocoons around themselves. It was horrible; how could Nature be so cruel? It was so gruesome, so inhuman, and it really didn’t seem fair.

He took the stick in his hands and moved it, and saw the ailerons waggle. He pushed the throttle forward. The propeller wound up fast, whining at the back of the plane. The plane began bumping along the floor. He slopped the stick around, cursing, and got the plane under control, and the plane shot out of the hangar and climbed into the voracious night.

Chapter 42

Waikiki 31 October, 11:15 p.m.

Eric Jansen had gone out on Kapiolani late to get something to eat, and he walked back to the apartment carrying a styro box of kalua pork and rice. In the driveway he said hello to two guys, who were sitting on lawn chairs by the colorful pickup truck, drinking beer and listening to music. He went around to the back, and up a flight of steps to a second-floor apartment.

The apartment was a furnished one-bedroom. Eric sat at a tiny table and opened the box and began eating. He thought he’d better check the monitor, since he’d been gone for over an hour. He went into the bedroom, opened a drawer in the dresser. In the drawer sat the laptop computer, and next to it a metal box dense with electronic parts, along with an electric soldering iron, cutters, pliers, tape, and a roll of solder wire.

A light on the box was blinking. It meant that an emergency call had been made over Nanigen’s intracompany network. Shit, he’d missed it.

The message was encrypted. He tapped the keys of the laptop, and ran the de-encryption program, the one he’d downloaded from Nanigen’s VPN. It took a minute to unscramble the call, and then he began to listen as voices came out of the laptop. “You say you’re at Tantalus Base?” “Not exactly. We’re in Ben Rourke’s fortress.” “What?” “He’s got all kinds of equip-” “You’re telling me Ben Rourke is alive?” “Absolutely. And he doesn’t like you, Mr. Drake.”

Eric leaned over the dresser, listening more intently. This had been an emergency call made through the videoconference link with Tantalus. He couldn’t get the image, but he could get the sound. The voices went on. “What about the others?” “They’re all dead, Mr. Drake.” “Peter Jansen is dead, too?” “Yes.” “Are you sure he’s dead?” “He got shot. His chest exploded. I saw it.”

Eric gasped as if he’d been punched. “No,” he said. He closed his eyes. “No,” he said again. He made a fist and slammed it on the dresser. “No!” He turned around and pounded the bed with both fists, and picked up a chair and threw it against the wall, and sat down on the bed and buried his face in his hands. “Peter…oh, Peter…God damn you Drake…God damn you.”

Eric Jansen didn’t cry for long. He didn’t have time right now. He got up and restarted the playback, and listened to the end of the message. “As you get closer to Diamond Head, you will see a blinking light by the sea…Fly toward the lighthouse.”