Part 37 (2/2)

A man might find vials of acid and pheromones, but how could he find a vial of that keening sound?

But suppose it wasn't a man, but a creature, as the others had conjectured? Something like a monstrous slug that slid along the ground without leaving a trace? That made no sound, other than its feint keening as it traveled? Suddenly that interpretation was making sense!

Yet how could it get past the security system? It had to come in a door or a window or something, and that should set off the alarms. If it were an animal, it wouldn't know about such alarm systems; none herself hadn't known much about them until she had come here and Geode had told her. It would just come on in, any way it could, maybe down the chimney into the fireplace, and then the infra-red eye would catch it and h.e.l.l would break loose in the house.

Yet it had never broken anything before, or left any other evidence of its presence. Just the bones of its victims. It didn't seem to use doors or windows-yet it had enough ma.s.s to be able to consume a full human body in the course of a night. How did it do that? By squeezing flat under the door?

Suddenly she knew it did. That it was completely malleable, like a gelatin dessert that hadn't quite firmed up. A jellyfish that could go on land. That was why it was so quiet and left no footprints. It might have no hard parts at all, no claws or teeth. That was why it needed the acid, to dissolve the victim's flesh and turn it liquid so it didn't have to be chewed, it could be sucked up through a straw. And the pheromones, so the victim wouldn't try to flee. Did a dog flee from a b.i.t.c.h in heat? Did a man flee from a woman with her legs spread? These pheromones were multipurpose; they made women get just as eager as the men usually were. How well she knew! If the victim didn't know that it was more than s.e.x which offered, that it was death- The keening seemed loud now, and close. Actually it wasn't loud, it was faint to the verge of inaudibility, but things were relative; she was tuning in on it all too well. It was directionless, yet seemed to come from the direction of the stairs. What could come up those stairs without alerting the infra-red eye? Well, the sensor actually tuned in on heat and motion. If something seemed not to be distinct from its background, if it seemed like no more than a wrinkle in the carpet, it might slowly flow up stair by stair without making enough of a stir to trigger the sensor. A human body was big and hot and clumsy, but something shaped like a rug, perhaps even looking like a rug, maybe even coming up under the rug- She struggled again, but again her bonds were tight. She could not free her hands or her feet. But maybe she could save herself. If she rolled over, got on her feet somehow, and hopped to the door, she could crash it open and set off the alarm herself.

She struggled with more direction now, not trying to free her extremities but to achieve a position. But her hands were tied behind her. Had they been tied in front of her, she could have moved like an inchworm and humped her way to the door. It wasn't physically locked, just latched; any thief who yanked it open would bring the authorities down on his head in short order. With her hands behind her, she couldn't inchworm, unless she did it on her face. The moment she squirmed off the cus.h.i.+ons, she was uncomfortable, with her arms jamming into her back.

She rolled over, and found herself p.r.o.ne, her face on the rug. She couldn't go anywhere this way! She tried to lift herself up to her knees, and couldn't. And if she could, what then? Now that she was closer to the position, it seemed to her that to inch along she would have to put more of the weight on her head than on her feet, and how would she do that? There must be a better way!

She rolled onto her side. The repeated efforts flexed her legs and b.u.t.tocks against each other, and the effect was unfortunately suggestive. She was on the verge of s.e.xual spasming, though she knew that was not smart right now. G.o.d, she wanted a man in her! She could not afford to let s.e.x distract her from her effort to escape.

The keening changed quality. It seemed to be right in the room with her.

Then her gaze fell on the door. She gulped in horror. Something was flowing under it! Something brownish, like dilute chocolate syrup, squeezing under, forming a bubble inside. As she watched, the bubble swelled, sucking more of itself through.

It was the firefly. She had no doubt of that. And it was between her and the door.

She rolled onto her back. She pressed her head down, and her feet, arching her back so as to lift her midsection off the floor. She could inch along this way. But where could she go? The monster had her trapped!

Could she try to plow through it to the door? But then she would b.u.t.t her head against the door, and not be able to escape, with the muck of the monster all around her. It would surely trap her before she could get away.

How could she open the door, anyway? The handle had to be turned. It was a handle, not a k.n.o.b, so if she could get any part of her body against it, she could shove it up, and then the door would open and the alarm would go off. Then she could heave herself outside, and keep flopping around so as to win clear of the firefly, until help came.

The bubble of liquid flesh continued to expand. Now its total ma.s.s was approaching that of a human being, if a person could be melted down into liquid. And of course that was possible; this was the thing that did it. She was about to join Cyrano and Bull Shauer and her husband.

Join that trio? No way!

What she had to do was scoot herself down to the door feet first, then lift her feet to shove up the handle and push open the door. After that she could just flop around as long as she could, not giving the thing any purchase on her, basking in the sound of the alarm. Even if she died, she would take the firefly with her. She felt no fear-or if she did, it had been locked into some other personality. She knew she could not afford to be hampered by that. She had one chance to save herself, and she meant to make it count.

Now the thing seemed to be all inside. It extended a slow pseudopod toward her.

She stared at that swelling thing, and thought of a p.e.n.i.s. The urge to mate took her with gale-like force. Why not let that s.e.xy thing go up into her, the world's most potent member? If it wasn't hard yet-well, neither had Nymph's lover's thing been hard after it jetted, but she had gotten it into her and then it had solidified inside her. All she had to do now was spread her knees, open her legs where it counted despite the tied ankles, get her cleft wide- No! Once that thing got into her, it would never get out again! Not while she lived! She had to fight it, no matter how horribly s.e.xy it seemed.

none started her motion. She was not in a position to roll; the available floor s.p.a.ce was too narrow for her to roll sidewise, and she needed her hands free to manage somersaults. So she lifted her back and shoved with her head and bucked herself down toward the monster.

In a moment she landed on the pseudopod. She gritted her teeth, expecting it to squish, but could feel nothing; it must have flattened so readily that it offered no resistance. She continued to hump as well as she could, subst.i.tuting vigor for skill. The firefly was gelatinous; it had no bones. It couldn't jam into her, it had to insinuate. External contact wouldn't hurt, as long as she gave it no chance to get internal.

Her posterior began to feel good. This was surprising since she was b.u.mping fairly hard on the floor and might be abrading her skin under the clothing. Maybe the banging was making it numb. She paused, wondering. It was almost as if she had found a new cus.h.i.+on, a water-cus.h.i.+on, warm and medicinal.

The good feeling spread around her b.u.t.tocks and into the cleft between them. It reached her genital area, and intensified. It was as if the most wonderful man in all the world were stroking her and seeking to enter.

She spread her legs to the extent possible, to facilitate that entry. Something slid into her v.a.g.i.n.a, bringing rapture. Never in her life had she experienced as gentle, steady yet intense pleasure; it was like an interminably sustained o.r.g.a.s.m.

Then she realized what was happening. She had planted her bottom on the firefly, and it was reaching up past her clothing to have its kind of s.e.x with her. This was how it had taken the others; it had brought them such genital delight that they simply hadn't wanted to move.

But though she lived for good s.e.xual experience, she also knew that this was death. She had seen the bones! So her mind overrode the joy of her v.u.l.v.a, and she tried to struggle free.

And could not. For with the pleasure came anesthesia. She willed her legs to move, her back to arch, but the response was partial; only the upper portion of her body moved. The lower portion subst.i.tuted joy for action.

She was, after all, caught. She had paused for that critical moment, savoring the pleasure, and that had been her undoing.

What could she do? Her body was no longer hers. Only the upper part of it. Even her hands were going numb and happy, for they were now in the region of the firefly. All she had, really, was her head.

”Help!” she called. But there was no answer, and could be none, for she was alone in the house and no one else could enter. Geode was miles away, staking out the cabin. The firefly had outsmarted them all, coming for the lone bound person instead of the three ready ones. What a fool she had been, to set herself up for it!

The rapture was radiating from her v.a.g.i.n.a to her womb. She wanted to give herself up wholly to the pleasure, but fought it. The moment she stopped fighting, she would be truly lost. It was ironic: all her life she had sought the pleasure of the penetration of that region; now she had it in greater measure than ever before, and she was trying to escape it.

If she couldn't call for help, maybe she could defend herself. With her mind, and her mouth. She would talk to the firefly.

”Oh Firefly,” she said. ”Listen to me, for I am not one to be taken lightly. Hear me, for I have better for you than my flesh.”

The burgeoning o.r.g.a.s.m was spreading out through her abdomen, into her intestines and organs.

”I have information for you, I have entertainment, I have insight into the human condition, which you hardly understand. You will surely be caught and killed if you do not learn more about our species and how it thinks. Listen to me, or feel me think, oh Firefly, or you will die as surely as I.”

The rapture continued. It was as if her colon were illuminating, becoming a convoluted channel of pleasure. Her bladder was a container of joy, and her kidneys were beginning to tingle. If there were wastes in those parts, they were being dissolved into the glow.

”Our bodies may be familiar to you, but it is our minds that set us apart,” she continued. ”Other species have preyed on us for a time, but they have inevitably been hunted to extinction, because man is a social animal, and he avenges his own. You, alone, cannot hope to prevail, unless you first come to understand us. Listen, Firefly, and feel our spirit.”

The rapture seemed to dim for a moment. Was the firefly listening? Could Scheherazade charm even an alien creature bent on s.e.xual consumption?

”There was a man and his daughter. His marriage had broken up, and such was the situation that the almost automatic propensity of the courts to give children to mothers was reversed; he had fought for his beloved child and won her. They loved each other truly, and agreed never to be separated. Of course, he knew that in time she would grow up and become another person, and then would go her own way, as was proper, but while she was a child he would always be with her.

”Then there was an accident. A drunken driver crossed the center-line and collided head-on with their car. The crash was horrendous. Both were seriously injured. But even as they were extricated from the mangled car, he called to her and held her hand. 'It's okay, honey, I won't leave you,' he said, and she was rea.s.sured. She knew her daddy always told the truth.

”They tried to separate them in the hospital, but both reacted so strongly that the doctors realized that both could die unless they were allowed to remain together. So they were given a room between the adult ward and the pediatric ward, with adjacent beds, where they could reach out and touch each other's hands. Both were swathed in splints and bandages, so that they could not even see each other, and it was hard for them to talk, because her larynx had been torn and his chest was paralyzed; he had spoken no more after calling to her at the site of the accident. Both had extensive internal injuries, but his right arm and her left arm remained mobile, and they touched hands often, rea.s.suring each other.

”They were taken to surgery together, and while the adult doctors operated on him, the pediatric doctors operated on her. Both were in critical condition now, because of loss of blood and the stress of the surgery. But now he was on a respirator, and was able to talk with the help of a mike, while she had her larynx repaired to some extent. The monitors showed that her heart and respiration improved when she heard his voice and felt the gentle squeeze of his fingers, and his vital signs stabilized when he received her response.

”But she had lost her liver, and was declining. A search was on for a possible transplant, but her tissue type as rare and hope was faint. She was dying. It was impossible to hide this from her; she knew, as the dying generally do. But her father rea.s.sured her. 'Don't worry, honey,' he gasped, 'I'm going with you. I will not let you go alone to that place.' And she smiled through her pain, knowing he always told her true.

”They wound down together, and it was evident that they would die within hours or even minutes of each other. He really was going with her. The doctors shook their heads; they had never seen such a bond between two people. He might have survived, but he didn't want to; he wanted to be with his daughter, to help see her through the valley of the shadow of death. She went into coma, and when he felt that, so did he.

”Then a miracle happened. A baby died, and its liver matched the girl's almost perfectly. They rushed the comatose child into surgery and did the transplant. It was touch and go at this late stage, but they worked heroically, and saved her. The new liver functioned, and her vital signs began to improve. She would live after all.

”But her father had not known. He somehow felt her absence; they found his hand outstretched in air, where hers had been. He had thought her absence was because of her death-and he had died himself.

”When she recovered she discovered that her father had honored his commitment to go with her-but she had reneged. He had gone alone to death. 'Oh, Daddy!' she cried, grief-stricken, torn by guilt. She tried to die, to rejoin him, but was too young to know how. The doctors maintained her in life-but to what point? She was alone.”

The rapture seemed to have paused, as long as none spoke. Now it resumed.

”I have told you of the tragedy of a little girl,” she said. ”This is one aspect of the way our kind feels about death. We do not take it lightly, and neither should you. But there are other aspects to our nature. We are a species of two s.e.xes, and men have interests too. I will tell you of a man, because I think the man I love would like that. He understands about conversing with animals.”

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