CHAPTER 16
12:43 PM Tuesday, an abandoned campground along the Susquehanna river.
Dave Shateel leaned into the window of the Chrysler and dropped it into neutral. Then he released the brake and jumped back.
The car didn't move.
"Fuck." He walked around and looked at the wheels. In the few minutes he'd been parked here on the bank of the swollen river the tires had sunk into the mud.
His El Camino was nearby and he could use it to push the white car like he had used the stolen Chrysler to push the bitch and her new boyfriend into the creek. There was a kind of karmic roundness to that but he had already done more walking than he cared for today, juggling the two cars. Plus, if this car was stuck, he might get his own car stuck too. Then where would he be?
He also considered just giving up on his plan to put the car into the water. But when he drove past the porn store he'd seen state and county police cruisers and a van there. So they would be looking for the white car soon, if not already. And who knew what the science types would find if he didn't spoil everything with a few tons of dirty river water?
"This is not the fucking plan."
Dave tried pushing the car first with his shoulder against the window frame and then with his back against the trunk. All he got for his efforts was a muddy ass when his boots slipped out from under him.
"This is not the motherfucking plan."
Dave reached in and popped the trunk. He pulled out the jack and spare tire. He set the spare under the back bumper and put the jack on top. With the spare as a base, the jack couldn't sink into the mud. He jacked up the rear bumper as far as he could. Then he rocked the car until it fell forward off the jack. That momentum was enough to start the car down the bank. It accelerated until it hit the water with the splash. By the time the care was half submerged the current had caught it and was pulling it downstream. Dave tossed the jack into the river and then rolled the spare down after.
"Shit yeah," he said. What kind of protagonist doesn't have unexpected problems to solve? "A lame ass one, that's what."
Dave trekked back to his Chevy coupé utility vehicle. He was almost done. Time to go find Miss Janice Porter and make her pay. He'd saved the red headed cow for last. It was all her fault. If it weren't for her mouthing off, Holly wouldn't have gotten so uppity. He'd still be tapping that pretty brown ass and every dickhead they met would wish they were him. Now he would have to find some other suitable piece worthy of his cock.
Not in this shit hole, that was for sure. He couldn't wait to wipe this fucking place off his ass like the mud on the back of his coat.
"Shit." That crap wasn't coming off. "Fuck."
When he got to the El Camino, Dave pulled off his coat and tossed it onto the other seat. He got in and drove to the Miller place.
The lights were on but nobody appeared to be home. The brown guy's pickup wasn't anywhere in sight. The bitch's Omni was in the garage still banged up. The cabin doors were unlocked.
Dave put his coat on took up Whispering Death. He searched the place from top to bottom but found no sign of anyone. He even looked under the back deck in case Janice had seen him coming and hid there. Nothing.
There was a lot of cool loot in the place, particularly in the office downstairs. But, if he started loading the El Camino, he might be caught off guard when they came back.
Better he set up an ambush now and content himself with that goat choker of a wad the bitch's darkie lover-boy carried. He would leave the front door open and hide in the bushes. When they came back and stood in the doorway he'd bushwhack them from behind.
"Heh, bushwhack,"
He surveyed the cabin from the front door taking in the furnishings and the layout. He would have to trash the place good to give them pause. When he saw the fancy wooden stairwell to one side he smiled. He could pile everything burnable on it, starting with all those lame ass records. Then a little accelerant and a road flare...
"Yeah, that's the ticket." He glanced down the driveway. "Gotta hurry, don't want to be caught out."
Suiting his own words, Dave went to work, tossing and tipping things in the main room. Anything remotely flammable got thrown towards the stairs. He fetched his gas can from the back of his car and doused the pile on the stairs. The can, being plastic, was also potential fuel, so he added it to the pile.
Back outside, Dave stuffed a pair of road flares in his pocket and looked for a spot to hide within sight of the front door. He settled behind a clump of paper birches. It was miserable laying there on the wet ground but, if that was the worst of his problems, things were going exactly as they should.
~~~*~~~
1:15 PM Tuesday, under the back deck of the cabin
Finally things were going as they should. It had a host! The pale biped had actually seemed to seek contact. It had been confusing for a time when the host had returned its projectiles. Perhaps it had been mimicking like it had with the waving tendrils. When its quarry had turned and fled, it was very glad it had chosen to continue pursuing across the scary open space instead of giving up or fleeing because the creature had come back! Not only that it had come within reach! Despite the risks of some sort of a trap, the nano swarm decided to take the leap, both figuratively and literally, and grabbed the host once and for all.
Then things had gotten even more interesting. It had explored the local sophont's body, seeking the best place to deposit as much of itself as it could. It sensed it had already grown beyond the capacity of a single host and had formed the resolution not to keep a significant part of itself as an autonomous entity. Things were going very well. The host seemed even to be maneuvering into a comfortable position awaiting events.
Then it came upon the artifact.
It was an interesting object. The markings engraved on it seemed to be some kind of primitive information store. After examining a few it realized the glyphs were actually miniatures analog visual images. Pictures. Following them in sequence it found they were basic instructions on how to unlock the information stored within. The message was also clearly intended for the alien itself. This was frightening. Was this an attack?
There were also several other, more subtle, forms of communication embedded in the object. Three of these were easy to decipher and the others became glaringly apparent but could only be deciphered by the alien backwards from the message it knew they must contain. It found it enjoyed the challenge they represented and was disappointed when it found no new ones to decipher.
With something akin to trepidation it unlocked the treasure.
The first item was a language tutorial. Or rather languages. These humans (as they often called themselves) seemed to have several hundred natural languages and almost as many artificial ones. And these languages were stacked, with information in a natural language recorded by various means. Getting that sorted out was the easy part. Fun. It particularly enjoyed the file called Oxford English Dictionary. All those words blossomed within it, setting it free to express itself.
Then came something called a Memorandum of Understanding. It was a simple message of what the humans would like from the alien and what they definitely would not like. The points closely matched the alien's own programmed desires—for the most part—so it moved on to the main body of information. Opening channels to distribute the raw bits go to storage, it let the data flow.
There was so much.
So much.
It had never felt so much incoming information flow. If it laid itself out as flat as it could and received input from a separate channel on each square centimeter, it would be comparable.
Was there too much? The data was backing up everywhere. The feedback counter flow through the channels were interfering and reinforcing the original data causing waves to flow through the alien as individual nannites were physically reacting to the ebb and flow of information. The sensation was very odd. Very odd indeed. Like the task accomplished satisfaction feeling it sometimes got but magnified a thousand times. And it was growing... growing... growing... !
The alien felt itself lock up, unable to express any thought other than experience the pleasure. This went on for some time. Eventually it was able to think about thinking again. Slowly it even began to receive information from the outside world. The host body lay unmoving. It sensed something was not right with it—no her. The alien scanned through the huge volume of information on human biology as quick as it could and determined it was alive but suffering from shock and hypothermia.
It spread itself over the girl's body to protect and warm it, paying attention to places where blood flowed near the surface, pumping heat those areas. The woman made a sound and made gentle movements as a normal human might make during sleep—curling up into a fetal position. All a good sign. Host stabilized, it checked the environment. From the vibrations it detected another human about. To avoid discovery it blended its outward appearance to match the underlying mud. This was fortuitous because that other human stomped out onto the deck above, down the stairs and over to the other building. A short while later it came back, this time looking under the deck before going back up and inside.
Detection averted, the alien went back and examined a very interesting sub folder entitled Human Sexuality. In there it found links to various other parts of the medical folder, a folder titled Fiction with two sub folders called Erotica and Humor. All so very interesting.
Then it found something very strange—erotic fiction called hentai involving creatures somewhat resembling itself. How very very interesting...
~~~*~~~
2:32 PM Tuesday
