Bill 5 - on the Planet of Zombie Vampires (9 page)

“Eggs is good to eat,” Bruiser grumbled. “But dose t'ings don't look so good.”

“That's got to be some ugly chicken to lay eggs that look like that,” said Tootsie.

“There must be thousands of them,” observed Captain Blight.

“Millions,” calculated Christianson. “Look over there ... and there ... and — everywhere!”

Sure enough, the entire floor of the cavern seemed to be covered with lime gelatin pools of pods between the riblike walkways.

“It must be a real busy chicken,” said Tootsie.

“I don't think we're dealing with chickens here,” Bill observed speculatively, leaning over the pool to get a closer look at the pods. “At least not normal chickens.”

“Hey, this one has something moving inside it,” said Christianson, bending over, his nose inches from a pod. “It's real disgusting.”

“Dis one's moving too,” said Bruiser, taking a good close look. “How about dat!”

“If you brush the gelatin aside you can see better,” said Larry or Moe, on his knees leaning over the edge. “Of course you get gooey stuff on your hands.”

“Glakk!” screamed Tootsie. “It's horrible!”

“Did you get too close to a pod?” asked Bill. “Did something jump out at you?”

“No, but I got some of the slime on me,” said Tootsie. “It's awful.”

“I think we ought to be careful,” warned Bill, leaning a little further over. “There's something alien about all this.”

“We don't know anything about these pods,” said Christianson, poking one with his finger. “I think they might be dangerous.”

“You could be right,” said Bruiser, leaning down and sniffing a pod. “But I kinda like dem.”

“I normally don't agree with criminals,” agreed Captain Blight. “There's something forbidding and malevolent about these pods, but at the same time I'm fascinated by them. If I waded in the pool I could get a better look.”

“That doesn't sound like a very good idea,” said Bill. “Something dangerous would probably happen.”

“Arg!” yelled Bruiser.

“Yipe!” burbled Christianson.

“What happened?” asked Bill.

“Something horrible — evil — jumped out of the pods they were looking at,” moaned Tootsie. “The creatures wrapped themselves around their heads and won't let go. Come look.”

Bill rushed over, being careful not to fall into a pool of pods.

“Kill it,” he cried.

“I can't,” she said. “I just can't.”

“Is it some alien creature with an impervious shell?” asked Bill. “Is it indestructible?”

“No, it's too cute to kill.”

Bill saw Tootsie was right. The alien creatures wrapped around Bruiser and Christianson looked like a cross between moldy teddy bears and little baby ducks.

“Are they okay?” asked Captain Blight. “Mr. Christianson comes from a very wealthy and powerful family. There could be serious repercussions if he were to be eaten by aliens while on a mission under my command.”

“They're still breathing,” said Bill. “And, P.S., you're not in command anymore.”

“Oh, I forgot,” muttered Blight. “It's hard to lay down the mantle of responsibility, you know.”

“What happened?” said Caine, arriving with Rambette. “I was out wandering by myself, minding my own business, when I heard the bloodcurdling screams. Is something wrong?”

“You might say that,” said Bill. “Alien creatures popped out of the pods and have attached themselves to Bruiser and Christianson.”

“It was more of a jump,” said Tootsie. “I wouldn't exactly call it a pop.”

“Did it scuttle?” asked Bill. “I missed it.”

“No, it sprung out,” said Larry or Moe. “Just like a coiled spring!”

“It was definitely a leap,” said the other clone. “Not a bit like a spring.”

“Oh, they're cute,” said Rambette. “Soft and cuddly. I wish I had one.”

“You would regret it if you did,” said Caine. “I believe that, in spite of their appearances, they're deadly.”

“Deadly?” asked Larry or Moe. “Just look at those tiny little webbed feet and those cute little eyes, like little adorable black buttons. I can't believe they have a deadly bone in their cute little tiny bodies.”

“These are alien creatures,” said Caine. “Juveniles. As an android, I can recognize what you humans call 'cute' only in the abstract. I do, however, know that all creatures, great and small, have 'cute' babies. It is a protective mechanism for the preservation of the species. That way their parents don't eat them or leave them out on ice floes.”

“I suppose they could be dangerous,” said Bill doubtfully. “As cute as they are, they seem to have messed up Bruiser and Christianson pretty well. The poor bowbs are just standing there breathing heavily and staring off into space.”

“We had better get them back to the ship,” said Caine. “I'll need to run some tests. I don't like the looks of this, but I think I know what's happened here.”

The crew held their breath as one and bulged their eyes with anticipation as they all turned and looked at the android.

“The aliens are turning them into zombies.”

Bill didn't even believe in zombies, and here he was, lugging one around. Of course, up until recently, he hadn't believed in mummies either. Life was sure full of surprises. Now he sweated and suffered and felt sorry for himself as experience suspended an entire lifetime of disbelief. Bruiser was heavy, and — being obviously part zombie — was not cooperating at all. Bill had the legs, and Caine and Captain Blight each had an arm. The alien creature more or less had the head to itself. No one wanted to go near that part.

“Got the sling ready?” called Bill.

“Coming down,” said Rambette from the hole in the ceiling of the cavern. “Watch that it doesn't tilt. We almost dropped and splattered Christianson. Not that it would have been any real loss.” She was all heart.

They strapped Bruiser into the sling and watched as the crew pulled him up. Bill was looking forward to getting out of this place.

“This appears to be a nursery,” Caine observed. “I wonder how many adults are lurking around here.”

“Don't talk like that!” Bill suggested, swallowing his heart, which seemed to be lodged in his throat. “Don't even joke about it.”

“It would be an edifying, and probably horrible, experience,” said Caine. “Maybe even fatal.”

“Shut your mouth except to put in food,” Blight ordered caustically. “Fatal encounters with homophagous aliens are activities best reserved for enlisted men, not officers.”

Bill watched Bruiser disappear up through the hole. The rope dropped back down and he caught it.

“You know Uhuru has sealed off the ship, don't you?” Bill said, finding something else to worry about as he wrapped the rope around his waist and held it tight with one of his right arms. “He's afraid of catching something.”

“That's a logical action on his part,” said Caine. “If I were him, I'd do the same thing.”

“But since we're us,” said Bill, “what do we do next?”

“Get into the ship,” said Caine. “It is also the logical thing to do.”

Barfer was overjoyed to see Bill again. As soon as Bill popped through the hole the dog knocked him down, covering him with obnoxious, slimy, slobbery dog kisses, standing on his chest at the same time and squeezing the breath out of him.

“We gotta get Caine up here fast,” said Rambette, kicking the repellent hound aside as she unwrapped Bill and dropped the rope back down. “This is important.”

“What's happened now?” asked Bill with gloom-filled expectation.

“We've been reading the station's log,” said Tootsie. “Bad, bad news.”

“I heard that,” said Caine, crawling out of the hole. “What's the last entry?”

“Do we really have to pull Captain Blight up?” asked Larry or Curly. “I vote we leave him down there forever.”

“I heard that!” shouted Blight from the cavern floor. “And I demand —”

“We might as well bring him up,” said Bill. “At least that way we can keep an eye on him.”

“The last entry is about a month ago,” said Rambette. “It reads as follows: This is horrible!”

“And the one before that?” Bill asked trepidatiously.

“This is disastrous!” read Rambette, flipping pages. “And the one before that says: This cannot go on much longer — the end! the end!”

“I think we're on to something,” suggested Caine. “I feel that something has gone wrong. Keep reading. Maybe there's a clue in the log.”

“The previous day says: It's appalling! Dire! Dreadful!,” read Rambette. “And the one before says: Another dull day. Nothing ever happens here. I think I saw a mouse scuttle across the floor this afternoon.”

“Scuttle?” cried Bill, suddenly alert. “Does it really say scuttle?”

“Read it and weep if you don't like the way I do it,” sneered Rambette, passing him the log. Bill read slowly, lips moving, thick finger following and keeping his place. She was right. There was nothing ominous written in it until the scuttling mouse was mentioned.

“What are we going to do about these two guys?” asked Tootsie, pointing to Bruiser and Christianson, who were propped up against the closet door. “They're giving me the screaming meemies.”

“We need to get them back into the ship,” said Caine. “It's the only way we can save them.”

“How can we do that?” asked Rambette. “Uhuru's got the door locked.”

“We get him to open it,” said Bill.

“How?” sneered Caine.

“Simple,” said Bill. “First we split up —”

“Stop right there,” moaned Tootsie. “I've had it with splitting up. Just for openers I have found out that wandering around by myself in disgustingly dangerous places has lost its charm since Bruiser and that pretentious creep got turned into zombies.”

“We must find impermeable binding tape,” Bill cried aloud. “Lots of it. There ought to be some around here someplace.”

And there was. Larry and Curly found a whole locker crammed full of the adhesive rolls. They piled it in a huge stack by the door to the docking tube and called Uhuru, who proved to be singularly unhelpful.

“You all still alive?” he asked. “I figured you'd all be mummies by now.”

“Would you believe zombies?” whispered Rambette. “Or maybe an exfoliating slime-creature from some black lagoon?”

“Shut up,” Tootsie suggested. “He'll hear you.”

“No, Uhuru. We're all fine,” lied Bill ingratiatingly. “Are you ready to let us in?”

“Forget it, good buddy Bill,” snarled Uhuru. “I still got what remains of my good sense and I plan to keep it. The door stays locked until Moe and I get the ship fixed and blast out of here or we die of old age, whichever comes first.”

“How are the toilets?” asked Bill.

“No potty privileges — so don't try and get back in that way. In any case, yuck!” said Uhuru. “Don't ask.”

“That bad?”

“Indescribable!” said Uhuru. “So I'm not going to try.”

“You think that impermeable binding tape would help a teensy bit?” Bill suggested with casual insouciance.

“It would be salvation — but I'm all out,” Uhuru despaired. “And the pipes are still leaking.”

“We've got tape,” said Bill. “Lots and lots of it.”

“I don't believe you,” Uhuru suggested — but his voice was shaking. “Impermeable binding tape, huh?”

“Hundreds of rolls,” said Bill. “Enough to tape every pipe in the ship twice. That ought to cut down on the aroma considerably.”

“In that case I might let you in,” said Uhuru. “But you'd have to go through the standard decontamination procedure for at least five hours and sit in the quarantine room for several days. Of course, I could run the tape through the sterilizer and use it right away. You guys would have to wait, though.”

“We don't have days to spare,” whispered Caine. “We don't even have hours. We're talking minutes here.”

“Sorry, Uhuru, that won't work,” Bill said firmly, glancing at Bruiser and Christianson, who were leaning against the wall looking for all the world like mind-wiped zombies except for the cute little alien creatures wrapped around their heads.

“The decontamination procedure makes me break out in a rash,” Bill lied. “Here's the deal — it's straight in with the tape or no tape at all.”

“I don't know,” moaned Uhuru. “Are you absolutely sure your good sense is back in working order? Not that you could tell. I don't want no brain diseases invading the ship.”

“We're all fine,” lied Bill. “In the pink.”

“No,” said Uhuru. “I can't do it. As much as I need the tape, it's too risky.”

“Suit yourself,” said Bill. “You're the one that has to breathe what passes for air in there.”

“Suit!” said Uhuru. “That's it! Suit! I'll get into a spacesuit. That way if you've got what I think you've got, it won't get to me.”

“Clear thinking,” Bill lied strenuously. “We're headed down the docking tube now.”

The flashlights Tootsie had found made the trip back through the tube considerably easier, but that was more than counterbalanced by having to drag along a couple of stiff possible zombies while packing several hundred rolls of sticky tape. Plus it didn't help that Bill's elephant foot was now getting to be a real drag.

Uhuru, wearing a bulky spacesuit with little headlights like an arcade game, plus a fogged visor, opened the door, and the crew immediately rushed into the Bounty before he could change his mind. He was grabbing up rolls of tape when he finally noticed something was seriously wrong with a couple of the returnees.

“Bruiser's got some sort of an alien wrapped around him!” he cried. “We're being invaded!”

“Actually, it's more the other way around,” said Bill. “The aliens seem to have the upper hand on this planet.”

“And Christianson too!” moaned Uhuru. “How could you bring these alien crapheads aboard the ship? You promised me your good sense was back!”

“We lost our good sense for a long time when something strange happened to us. We think,” explained Rambette.

“Obviously,” snarled Uhuru. “And something even stranger would happen to you if I had a gun handy.”

“Think of it as an unparalleled opportunity for scientific investigation,” intoned Caine. “It isn't every day you have the chance to examine disgustingly attractive alien life forms.”

“You're right, you're right,” he said, tenderly poking one of the aliens with a finger and shuddering. “They are cute, in a horrible way, but I'm staying in my spacesuit probably forever.”