Adaptation: book I (4 page)

How she wished for Wolf because she couldn’t stand the idea that there was nothing but her and it. Carmella gnawed her bottom lip, not feeling the skin crack and not recognizing the salty taste of her blood. She hurried to the kitchen, checked the windows, and made sure the door was locked. Then she grabbed cartridges for the rifle.

She was not going to be a prisoner in her own house. And if that thing wasn’t after her, it meant it was going off to rat out her location. She had to go after it and kill it before it could get to one of the signposts.

Despite her decision to do this, she didn’t feel fearless and brave. She was terrified. But long ago she’d had to face unpleasant things because there was no one else she could call on to fight her battles for her. She had no one else to turn to. She’d had to enter darkened stores and face the corpses of the long dead.

And she had survived until now.

Before she could lose her nerve, she pulled back the front door and stood in the entrance scanning the yard. She knew where the nearest signpost was located in the middle of a field several miles away.

Her eyes tried to take in everything at once as she hurried to her motorcycle. She had long since replaced the one she had when she was with Maggie. This was a comfortable, well-used Harley, and while there were probably bikes better suited for her, the Harley was what she wanted.

With her rifle strapped across her back, she threw her leg over the bike and heard the unmistakable sound of shuffling. Instinct told her to duck, even if it meant that she and the bike would hit the ground—and she did.

But so did the monstrous Blob.

It was on her, its elongated tentacles circling one leg, and she was trapped by the heavy motorcycle. With a scream she scrambled back and kicked with all of her might.

It was disgusting the way her foot sank into its flesh. It was almost like kicking Silly Putty with a tough yet pliable outer skin. If she hurt it she couldn’t tell. Its tentacles kept reaching. Its mottled skin and black disc like eyes that appeared beneath its translucent skin revolted her.

She kicked and scrambled as several more tentacles appeared, all grabbing for her.

“Stop.”

She heard its distinct command-request—she didn’t care which. She had heard them speak on television broadcasts and later when they gathered the humans for transport to Earth 2. They spoke with voices that reminded her of synthesized sounds. Since they had no need of voice boxes, they communicated through a complex system of sensors. They recognized the modality of their explanation, but it was so far removed from how humans interacted that it always sounded vague.

Blobs had no skeleton, vocal cords, or ears and yet they could speak and hear.

They also had stingers.

They tried to explain that the stingers were their natural defense, like a human forming a fist. But Carmella didn’t buy that. She knew their stingers carried poison that could kill. Blobs said they didn’t kill with them. “It renders the victim immobile,” they said, but that was another lie …

The Blob’s stinger appeared, and Carmella knew this moment would mark the end of her life. The Harley had impaired its movements, but now both of them had cleared it. She remembered the rifle strapped to her back, and with a fluid motion that would have impressed Clint Eastwood, she pulled it forward and fired pointblank into the “face” of the beast.

The Blob made an ungodly sound and recoiled into a ball the same time she saw the bullet exit the Blob in a spray of brackish dark fluid. All of its sensor tentacles drew back into the mass of its body.

Carmella scrambled to her feet and barely registered the quivering mass as she turned to run. But then she stopped. She had to end this …

She turned in time to see it slithering away, this time leaving a trail of that disgusting dark fluid in its wake. Swallowing back her disgust, Carmella shot again and again with the rapid-fire rifle.

The Blob emanated a distressed sound before curling into a tighter ball and remaining motionless.

Carmella backed away, panting and shaking until she almost tripped on the porch stairs. Was it dead? She was afraid to take her eyes from it, but she had fired at it about eight times and it didn’t flinch. Her eyes darted to the barn. Kerosene!

She stared at the unmoving Blob and darted to the barn, giving the Blob a wide berth. Her mind pictured it reaching out with its stinger for her, but it didn’t move. Adrenaline caused her to sprint the distance without tiring. She grabbed two partially full kerosene lamps and ran back to her farmhouse. A stitch had begun to build in her side, but she didn’t slow. Her eyes scanned the yard, but even before she reached the farmhouse she saw that it was empty.

The Blob was gone.

All that
remained
was the ink-like fluid that had soaked into the ground, a scattering of bullets, and a trail that headed back into the woods. Carmella reached for the bike and noticed that one of the bullets had punctured the gas tank.

“No
no no!” she screamed. She couldn’t drive the damned truck into the woods! Why didn’t she have two motorcycles? Carmella forgot about the stitch in her side. She ran as fast as she could, following the Blob’s bloody trail.

How could it move so fast after being shot eight times? She knew its nervous system was not localized in one spot but spread out within a matrix of that inky fluid, but eight shots
should
have done it in. Unless she hit its brain or heart, it probably would be able heal itself. Her lips formed a grim, yet determined line.

Let’s see if this bitch can survive being burned.

In her haste, Carmella didn’t consider other dangers that might be awaiting her in the woods. She carried two of the kerosene lamps in one hand and a nine-millimeter in the other. The other gun was in her waistband for easy access. Her eyes were mainly focused on the black trail. It had to deplete itself at some point. It was a huge Blob, but eventually it would have to run out of that fluid.

She knew it was heading for the signpost and began jogging in that direction, her eyes still on the alien’s trail. The chase made her remember the reason for her hatred, the reason that she was alone, and the reason that the world was now devoid of humanity. Now the chase was less about making sure that it didn’t bring back others but about dishing out some payback. Just a little bit, on behalf of all mankind.

“I’m gonna kill you,” she muttered. “Kill
you!
”

An unwelcomed memory caused her eyes to water.
Micah’s laughter. God, it was so crystal clear, as if it was twenty years earlier and her toddling baby boy was right there. She almost stumbled to a stop at the idea of him, a memory that she did not relish. A memory of Jody was one thing but not Micah.

Thinking about her baby hurt, even twenty years later.

~***~

Micah was born
nearly two weeks overdue. He was a big pink baby with a head full of ink black hair. She cradled him in her arms in surprise because he was white. How did she have a white baby when she was nut brown? I mean, yeah Jody was white, but …

Jody kissed his son’s forehead and then kissed her, a look of awe on his face. “Is … is he going to turn brown?”

She grinned in relief. Yeah, okay so she wasn’t the only one wondering. When Mama came into the room to meet her first grandchild, she examined the baby’s ears, his little nails and scrotum, and pronounced that he was white. She predicted that he might get toasty if he played in the sun, but that was it. For a moment an unpleasant thought flashed through Carmella’s mind—if he doesn’t look black, will he accept the fact that his mother is? Will he wish that he had a white mother? Will he accept his multiracial heritage?

When she kissed his silky curls, nuzzled his cheek with hers, and felt his responding yawn, those thoughts disappeared and never returned. Her focus was on loving her baby, and whether he would have ever had those feelings about his heritage would never be known.

He only lived to be two.

Jody was one of those fathers who happily wore a baby sling or pushed the baby carriage whenever they went out. He talked to Micah, he sang and told stories to his son, and he showered love on his new family.

“We should go to New Foundland.”

Carmella’s head had whipped around. “What?”

She likened it to a zoo, where aliens—or Centaurians, thusly named because their origins were from the Alpha Centauri star system—could interact with the humans in a controlled environment.

Jody always frowned at any derogatory comments made against the aliens. He completely believed the Centaurians would usher mankind into a new age of technology. He didn’t like the term “Blob” and likened it to the ‘N-word’, which he also wouldn’t dream of using.

“Why do you think we should go there?”

Jody had matured and didn’t shy away from conversations that might create a difference of opinion. “I want Micah to grow up knowing that the Centaurians are a part of his life. As he gets older, he might want to visit the starship. Hell, I want to visit the starship.”

“God, you nerdy guys,” she had muttered. “I don’t want my baby anywhere near those aliens. They are ugly, and I don’t trust them.”

Jody smiled. “They aren’t ugly. There is beauty in the Centaurians, just as there is beauty in sea creatures.” He rubbed her arms.

She tried to roll her eyes but found herself listening to his impassioned beliefs.

“Honey, they are the first step in creating a new existence of star travel. With their technological know-how, we can leave this galaxy and explore new ones. We will learn what the Centaurians have seen. This is so exciting!” He calmed when he saw that she seemed less than thrilled. “And it’s scary, yes I admit that, but they have made no threats against us. Mankind needs this, Mel. We need to move into the future.”

She knew she couldn’t continue pushing her fear off on him, so she reluctantly relented and agreed to visit New Foundland. They planned for the trip the way people made plans for Disneyworld. It would cost them a lot, but Jody’s excitement couldn’t be ignored. She wouldn’t back out if it was this important to him.

Each continent had several places similar to New Foundland where humans could visit the aliens and see them up close. She’d seen them on television many times. A Blob had even been in an action movie. They were a part of pop culture. Songs and stories were written about them, and late night TV hosts referenced them often in their monologues.

Carmella wasn’t alone in her distrust. There were many hate groups formed whose purpose was to rid the world of the alien menace. Terrorists groups rose up attempting to close down visitation centers. The world was a mess because of the alien visits.

But six months after she relented, the family visited the aliens for the first time.

She remembered Micah’s pudgy fingers pointing at the display area beneath them where two Centaurians roamed. “Bubbie!” he yelled in excitement.

Jody had bought him a Centaurian stuffed animal so that he would feel comfortable at the sight of them. It was fondly named Bubbie. Carmella watched the excitement on her son’s
face with trepidation. She was afraid, and maybe it was strange to be. Looking at Jody, all she saw was excitement, and it was mirrored in the faces of the others who had waited hours for their turn to be ushered through the observation area.

The Blobs were with human guards. Yes, the guards were armed, but you couldn’t see the weapons. That day there were two Blobs, and they were in a green “natural” environment where they moved around easily. They didn’t ignore the throngs of humans and often waved tentacles or approached the borders of their “display” area. There was no glass barrier or cages, but you couldn’t move easily from the observation deck down to the display environment. If you did, you would fall into a moat that would surely cause shattered limbs.

“God, they’re amazing.” Jody had said with wide, excited eyes.

Carmella looked at the gray Blobs and saw only a terrible life form that frightened her.

Even Micah was bouncing with excitement in his father’s arms, reaching for the aliens, wanting to go to them.

“Daddy, down!” he demanded, and one of the Blobs seemed to look right at them.

Carmella clutched Jody’s arm, her body breaking into a cold sweat. “No.”

Jody looked at the cold fear in her eyes, and despite wanting to stay and watch them for hours, he moved them out of the observation area.

In the summer of 2013, only three months after that visit, the World Health Organization (WHO) announced a pandemic outbreak of a new virus called H1Z similar to the pandemic outbreak in 2009 of H1N1. Instead of a swine-based virus, it was a strain that had unknown origins and could adapt to the host. As a result, it tricked the body into accepting it and couldn’t be combatted by the body’s natural defenses or any antiviral medications. Because of that, the H1Z virus caused the death of nearly 70 percent of the world’s population. Billions succumbed to it in a matter of months.