Darrell Bain - Savage Survival

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Savage Survival

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CHAPTER ONE

Her parents were scared; horribly scared. Eleven year old Lyda Brightner could tell that much by how

white and strained their faces were, by the way they tried to keep her away from the viewscreen in the

den where they had been practically living for the last few days. They would only leave for short breaks

and even then, wear the earpieces so they could follow what was happening. It was a war, an invasion;

she was pretty sure of that from the little snippets of news she had heard when peeking into the den, and

from conversations with the few friends she had been able to talk to. Mostly, the phone lines were always

either busy or made strange crackling sounds like bacon grease popping in a hot skillet. It must be bad

from the way Mom and Dad are acting, she thought. And there had been no school this morning; that

was the real signal, because always before, there was an explanation, like a tornado or storms or a

terrorist threat. This time, nothing had been said except she was to stay home and do her lessons in her

room. She had done that, and now she was bored with the rest of the day stretching out before her like a

deserted playground. Not even a new book to read on her computer or on the phone.

Lyda stood by the doorless entrance to the den, trying to turn herself into a small, quiet animal that

wouldn't be noticed. A rabbit, like inWatership Down , she thought. No one notices a rabbit. She closed

her eyes and envisioned herself huddled down in the grass, a little white bunny with ears laid flat so they

wouldn't peek out and give her away. It seemed to be working because for a while, she stood and

watched and listened, her presence undetected.

At first, she didn't understand what she was seeing; she thought Mom and Dad must be watching a

monster movie. Bright silvery spiderlike constructs crawled on multiple legs across a landscape of loose

rubble and debris while little ant beings scurried to get out of their way. Then it popped into perspective.

The rubble was the ruins of buildings; the ants were people trying to avoid ... being eaten? That was what

it looked like at first, but then she realized the people were being herded, with the spider things acting like

cowboys on horses, or sheepdogs working a flock. The silvery spiders were nothing to fool with; she

could see that. Anyone who tried to fight or run the wrong way was killed gruesomely by mandiblelike

appendages that pierced bodies like giant needles stitching clothes on puppets.

Periodically, a long broad tongue of blue fire would lash out from an opening among the multiple sets of

mandibles adorning the front of the spiders and sweep a path through the crowds of people running

frantically over the debris-strewn streets. Whenever the band of energy touched a person, bluish lightning

flared and the figures would go limp for a moment, crash to the ground, then get up and run even faster

than before—if they were able. Some weren't and were ignored or stepped on and crushed by the

multiple-jointed appendages supporting the spiders. In a few moments, out would come the tongue of

energy again, touching more people with its blue lightning and hurrying them along like an extra powerful

cattle prod. But where were they going? Why were they being chased and harassed like gangs of

vermin?

The mandibles of the creature moved constantly, opening and closing as if seeking something to bite,

though nothing except humans who chose to fight ever came within their grasp. Other appendages waved

in a roving pattern below the mandibles, touching the ground, dead bodies, ruined vehicles, poking into

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shattered doorways. Whiskers, she thought. They're like the whiskers of a cat, telling it what's near.

The whole scene was awesomely frightening, but so fascinating, she couldn't look away. Lyda thought it

must be real, not only because of the way her parents were staring so fearfully, but because the colors

weren't as bright as animations and the movements of the spidery beings and the humans were too

smooth and natural looking. But if it were real...

"Lyda! What are you doing here?"

Lyda jumped guiltily. Mom and Dad were both staring at her like she had done something bad. “I only

wanted to watch."

"This is nothing someone your age should see,” Dad said sternly. He cut off the sound and picture,

leaving only the earpiece to provide him a feed.

"Your dad is right, honey,” Mom said. “It isn't necessary for you to see such ... such..."

"It's real, isn't it?” Lyda asked, already knowing it was. She loved her parents. Sometimes they were

even cool, but they still tried to treat her like a little girl and she wasn't that little anymore. She was eleven

now, going on twelve.

Mom and Dad looked at each other from where they were seated side by side on the big leather couch.

Dad sighed, as if releasing a terrible burden from inside his body. “Yes, sweetie, it is real, but we're not

in any danger yet. Maybe the military will...” His voice trailed off.

Lyda thought if the military was going to do something, it ought to get started—if that scene she had

been looking at was any indication. She took a few hesitant steps into the den, the toes of her bare feet

curling into the carpet. “What are those spider thingys? Are they aliens from outer space?"

Abruptly, Mom burst into tears. Dad put his arm around her and patted her shoulder. From around the

tangle of Mom's bright red curls, the exact same shade as her own, Dad said, “I guess so. Yes, they must

be. But, Lyda..."

"Daddy, I should watch with you. How else will I know what to do if they come here?"

Mom raised her head. “They won't come here. Will they, Bruce? Why doesn't the military bomb them or

something?"

"I don't know. Maybe too many of our people are being held captive. Anyway, they already have. It

didn't work."

"It looked like those spider things were eating people,” Lyda said, taking another step inside. She hadn't

actually seen anyone being eaten, and wasn't sure she wanted to in any case, but she had seen a few

people being skewered by the thin silvery mandibles before Dad cut off the program.

"No, we don't think anyone is being eaten, Lyda baby.” Dad tried to chuckle but it didn't come out like

that; it was a gurgling sound Lyda had never heard him make before.

"Then what are they doing with them?"

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Again her parents looked at each other rather than at her. Was there something more terrible than being

killed, or maybe eaten later, happening to the people she had seen? What could be worse than that?

"Lyda..."

Dad sighed again. “Elaine, she may as well stay with us. We can always cut the picture if it gets too

gruesome. And we need to tell her."

"Tell me what?” Curiosity was replacing her fright now. She felt her heart beat faster. Mom and Dad

always tried to answer her questions and be honest with her, unlike the parents of some of her friends;

they just didn't want her to be exposed to graphic violence or sex yet. They thought she was too young.

Lyda always felt guilty when the subject came up. She had already seen plenty; little flash drives and

printouts from books passed around from kid to kid; images on her cell phone; movies at her friends’

homes she wasn't allowed to watch in her own; graphic color prints that were sometimes freaky and

gross but interesting all the same. She suspected that Dad, at least, knew she sometimes had access to

things he would rather her not see, but he pretended she didn't.

"The people you saw the spiders chasing aren't going to be eaten. They're being transferred to big camps

out west. We've seen images from space."

Lyda took the last few steps to the couch and wormed her way in between the elder Brightners. She

drew a grudging smile from both of them and this time, it was Lyda who sighed. Finally, she was going to

find out exactly what was happening!

* * * *

Bruce Brightner thought about how much he should tell Lyda. He realized that both he and Elaine were

perhaps a bit overprotective of their only child, but it was perfectly natural. She was a prodigy, absorbing

knowledge almost effortlessly. Even so, she was still an eleven year old girl, emotionally immature as yet,

he thought, even though she had more sense than most girls her age. The other reason he kept a close

watch on her was because she was beautiful; at least he thought so. Her startlingly red hair fell in natural

wavy curls to below her shoulders. She was bereft of the freckles her mother was prone to, leaving her

with an even-featured elfin face that would become regal and extremely attractive as she changed from a

girl to a young woman.

"Sweetheart, all of earth has been invaded by beings from somewhere else. I guess from outer space is

as good a description as any. We don't think those spider things are the actual aliens; they're simply

mechanical constructs being used to round up humans and perhaps for other purposes we don't know as

of yet."

"Did the spiders ruin all those buildings, or did the aliens do it?” Lyda wanted to know.

"It wasn't them; we were the ones who caused most of the damage. We tried bombing them, but bombs

don't seem to harm them at all. They don't seem to care what we do, unless we oppose them. It appears

that it's live humans they want."

"Bruce...” Elaine warned.

"Well, it's the truth. That's all they've done so far, simply used their mechanicals to round up enormous

numbers of people from all over earth. Lyda, they herd them into cul-de-sacs like you just saw, then

force them into flying machines. After that, they're transported to other locations in bigger flying things.

You'll see that soon if we keep watching."

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"What happens then, Daddy?"

"She surely doesn't need to know any more right now, Bruce. Let it be."

"Well..."

"Besides, we don't really know much else, do we?"

"Actually, no. We can't see much of what's happening in the camps. So how about putting some frozen

pizza on for supper? We can eat here."

"All right. You be careful now. Lyda doesn't need to see some of that stuff.” Mrs. Brightner left the den.

Lyda cuddled closer to her dad. “Can we watch some more, Daddy?"

Mr. Brightner zapped the picture and sound back on. The same vista was still being broadcast. This

time, she did see one of the flyers. It was simply a rounded, oblong shape with an oval entrance that

irised open for shrieking men, women and children, then closed with a blink when it was full or wanted to

go elsewhere.

"Where is this happening, Daddy? Have they said?"

"This is Atlanta, I believe, but it really doesn't matter, baby. It's happening just like this everywhere in the

world."

"Even in the country?"

Mister Brightner realized he had said more than he intended to. “Well, yes, but not around here. Not yet,

anyway. Let's not tell Mom I said that, okay?” Bruce Brightner knew that armies of the mechanicals were

roaming almost every part of earth by now, always seeking out humans. What he hadn't told Lyda was

that in many places, huge numbers of bodies were turning up from people simply being killed after

capture. No one knew why. What he did know was that he intended to protect his wife and daughter if

he could.

Lyda smiled and nodded at Dad, barely hearing. Her eyes were tracking the scenes on the big screen

with a fascination usually reserved for special programs on the learning channel, ones that dealt with how

things worked or astronomy and space flight. Already she had aspirations to become an astronaut; not a

pilot, but a science specialist. Her parents thought it might be a hero worship thing but Lyda knew it

wasn't. Someday, she would go into space and study the stars. Or she had intended to before this

happened.

On the screen, the view changed to the president. Lyda thought he was handsome, but kind of dumb.

Dad said most politicians were dumb and even if they weren't, they had to act that way to get elected.

She didn't understand that, but she had little interest in politics. Nevertheless, Lyda remained quiet while

the president was speaking because Dad appeared to be very interested in what he was saying at first.

Soon though, his expression became disgusted.

"He's lying,” Lyda's father said. “We're not in contact with the damn things. They don't want to

negotiate.” He switched to a local channel.

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"Why is he lying, Daddy?” Lyda asked. She didn't understand that either. Shouldn't the president always

tell the truth?

"He's trying to reassure people I guess, but that's not the way to do it."

The newswoman on the local channel looked very distraught. She was reading from a list rather than a

teleprompter and it showed. “...supplies of food in the cities of Lufkin and Nacogdoches are to be

rationed beginning Tuesday morning. Governor Prester has..."

"Shouldn't we be seeing about some extra food supplies?” Mom asked as she came back into the den,

wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “We really don't have much here."

"You're probably right. I should have done that earlier. I'll go as soon as we finish eating."

Lyda looked to her Dad, her eyes pleading for permission to go along. Her unasked question became

moot as the screen altered the view once again. It showed an oblong, dirigible looking shape stretched

across both sides of the freeway separating Lufkin from Nacogdoches and spilling into the woods on

each side. It was huge. Emerging spider mechs looked like tiny bugs next to it. As they watched, several

smaller flyers like the one she had seen earlier touched down along the sides of the big one and appeared

to merge into it.

The local anchor began talking extemporaneously, and was doing a bad job of it. Her hands were visibly

shaking. “...just in. One of the alien's larger transport craft has landed along Highway 59 between Lufkin

and Nacogdoches. Many of the mechanical spiders of different sizes, like in ... they have emerged and

are marching ... going in different ways, uh, directions, but most of them appear to be trying, I mean

heading, toward the cities, Lufkin and Nacogdoches, that is. They ... littler flyers are uh, being absorbed,

uh landing ... on..."

The picture burst into static and tiny squares of distorted color, then the screen went blank. A window

appeared, announcing the satellite link had failed.

Lyda sat very still, pretending to be a rabbit again, hoping not to be ordered from the den while her

father searched frantically among other channels for more information. Their home was located on a

county road only a few miles off the corridor between the two east Texas cities. Many other channels

were broadcasting the same signal, satellite link failure. Finally, he gave up, grew thoughtful and found an

old radio on one of the bookshelves. It wouldn't work; the batteries were dead. He used some words

Lyda had very seldom heard him utter. “I'm going to find some batteries,” he said. “Stay here, hon."

Mom had sat down. She was staring at the big screen as if her intense gaze could repair the satellite link.

It didn't.

"How long will it take the spiders to get here?” Lyda asked.

Her mother didn't answer. She simply stared. Lyda wondered if she had gone into shock.

From the bedroom next to the den, there came a noise Lyda had heard before, the unmistakable

slack-slack of a round being chambered in Dad's shotgun he used for duck hunting every year. Lyda

didn't think a shotgun would be of much use if bombs didn't work, but she didn't tell Dad that when he

returned to the den, bearing the weapon in a tight-knuckled grip.

"Daddy, how long until the spiders get here?” Lyda repeated her question. Her mother still hadn't

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answered.

He shook his head as he began opening up the radio. “Maybe they won't come here,” was all he said.

Lyda thought of that huge craft, obviously the kind Dad had been talking about. She remembered that it

had only been three days since the invasion began and already many humans had been transported to the

desert camps. The spiders probably moved fast, she thought.And they were coming here!

The spiderlike constructs did move quickly. Lyda had finished her share of the pizza, brushed her teeth

and was waiting hopefully near the door as Dad picked his car keys off the hallway table, apparently

deciding he needed to run an errand after all, probably over to the little store on the highway intersection.

Lyda quickly shrugged into her windbreaker and flip-flops, but before she could even begin to ask him to

go along, a noise from outside distracted him. He hurried to the entrance and opened the door.

Lyda could see past her father, out into the front yard. At the edge of her vision before the doorjamb

blocked it, she saw the leglike appendages of one of the spider things. Then the whole thing moved into

view. It was much larger up close than it had looked on the screen, even when there had been humans

visible for comparison. It glinted in the late morning sun like the outside paneling of the new building in

downtown Lufkin, featureless and simply reflecting the light.

Dad slammed the door and saw her still standing behind him. “Go to your room!” He shouted. “Hide

under the bed!"

Reluctantly, Lyda hurried away while Dad ran toward the den. She knew he was going for his shotgun.

Before he even got there, the door crashed inward with a resounding noise like someone had dropped a

tray full of dishes at a restaurant. Lyda whirled and saw something she recognized, the tips of two of the

mandibles from one of the big spiders. It hooked in under the top of the doorframe and pulled up. A part

of the front of the house peeled away with a loud ripping noise.

"Run!” Dad shouted at her. He had found his shotgun and was rushing toward the entrance; the weapon

already pointed and ready to fire.

Lyda couldn't make herself move. She watched, mesmerized, as a bluish band of light sought out her

father and engulfed him. He sparkled, like a cartoon character being electrocuted, then suddenly, he was

flung against the wall. His body spattered through the sheetrock and broke the two by four studs in the

wall into jagged splinters. One of them gouged a hole in his throat that immediately began gushing bright

red blood. Lyda never heard the shotgun fire, nor did she have time to think about it. She felt her

mother's arms go around her in an attempt to drag her away just as she saw a smaller spider fill the

entrance. A blue universe of pain engulfed her and tore at her senses like a ravenous virus. She tried to

shout a cry of defiance and that was the last thing she remembered until she woke up in the desert.

CHAPTER TWO

Lyda opened her eyes. She stood on wobbly legs and looked around, squinting through frighteningly

strong sunlight at a surreal scene of horror. In the distance, mountains grew from a brown landscape,

solid and timeless, but nearby were two mutilated bodies. She quickly averted her eyes from them. One

of them had been a young woman. She was naked. Blood seeped from between her thighs. The other

body was that of a man, sprawled out in an awkward position. His skull had been crushed and caved in

above one of his eyes. The eye lay on his cheek like an obscene colored ball on a thick white string.

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Beyond the bodies, men and women milled around, some gathered in throngs, some alone. Most of

them wore dazed, frightened expressions, like the ones she had seen on some of the dogs when her class

toured an animal shelter. Just like some of the dogs, a few were defiant and their faces and attitudes

promised savage reprisal should a chance come their way. She saw a man dressed in dirty jeans

squatting by a cactus. He had hacked off one of the flat pancake-like outgrowths and was trying to

scrape the needles off it with the little file on a fingernail clipper, cursing as he did. Was he trying to get

water from it, or planning on eating it?

Lyda thought of her parents.Where was Mom? She couldn't remember anything after she saw Dad

being flung and crushed against the wall and that blue light engulfed her.Was Mom here? Or dead, like

Dad? She was sure Dad was dead; she had seen how his throat was torn open by the broken studs in

the wall. But she didn't know about Mom, nor did she know anyone to ask. She began walking slowly,

looking around, trying to define her situation and trying not to cry. The ground of the desert was hot and

gritty under her bare feet, not at all like she had imagined a desert would be. She thought she

remembered slipping into her flip-flops when she shrugged into her jacket, but if she had, they were lost

now. Tiny stones gouged at the soles of her feet, bringing numerous little hurts. There wasn't much she

could see, only the gritty dirt that passed as sand, larger rocks and even larger outcroppings of stone

rising from the desert floor like old shelters, petrified by time. Occasionally, she passed tufts of greenish

brown grass of some sort and more cacti, some very large and growing in clusters like flattened houses in

a village. There were a few large bushes with spindly limbs and thin leaves, but no trees anywhere.

And people. There were people as far as she could see, standing, sitting, lying on the ground. She

thought some of them must be dead, simply by the way they lay unmoving with limbs twisted under them

or flung out in unnatural positions. There were other children among them, some being held by adults;

others free to move about under the watchful eyes of their guardians. Quite a few of them looked to be

as lost and vulnerable as herself. The people were dressed in everything from suits to borrowed shirts

tied around the waist by some who must have been caught naked. Lyda was glad she had her clothes on.

She spotted several men and women who wore no garments at all. They looked entirely different than the

nude bodies she had seen in the material passed around by the kids at school, as if someone had hosed

them down and washed part of their color away. She wondered why that was.

At first, Lyda wasn't really fearful; she was sorrowful about Dad and worried about Mom but beyond

that, she was curious. How did she get here without remembering? How long had it taken? What was

going to happen next? Was there water and food to be found? Why were the awful spider things bringing

their captives here to this desolate waste? In the distance, she saw one of the giant transport craft

descend and land as silently as clouds bumping together. She wondered how it was powered. It couldn't

be a rocket, could it? There was no noise. As she walked, some men or women glanced at her, but most

ignored her as if they had too many problems of their own to care about an eleven year old girl walking

around by herself.

When Lyda grew thirsty, she decided to ask someone about water. She picked a gray-haired woman

who resembled Grandma, though she wasn't dressed as nicely.

"Ma'am, do you know where I can find some water?” Lyda asked the old woman politely.

"Girl, you need a protector to get water around here. Where's your folks?"

"I ... I don't know,” Lyda told her. She didn't want to tell anyone Dad was almost certainly dead and

Mom ... well, she had been trying to protect her, too.

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"Then you better find someone quick, lest you ... ah shit, leave me alone.” The woman covered her face

with her hands and began sobbing.

Lyda went closer, wanting to comfort the old woman but she was shrugged off. When she tried again,

she was pushed forcefully away. Puzzled, Lyda left her alone and began wandering again. What was a

protector? Well, probably someone like a parent, she thought. Where would she find one?

One found her, one who had watched and listened, a tall grungy man in his forties with a two day beard

and a gleam of desperation in his eyes. He was wearing the remnants of a suit and had a sweat-stained

tee shirt wound around and over his scalp to protect his bald head from the sun.

"Hey, girl!"

Lyda turned toward the voice. Before she could back away, she found herself being gripped by the

upper arm.

"I can get you some water, girl. What's your name?"

Lyda didn't answer. She didn't like his looks. She glanced around, looking for help. The few nearby

adults turned away. One man started toward them, but stopped when he saw the grungy man show a

large pocket knife with the blade open. He turned away.

"Come on, girl. We'll both get some water."

"I don't want to go with you,” Lyda said, trying to wrench her arm away. That only made the man grip

her tighter.

"What's your name, girl?” he repeated, squeezing her arm so hard, it was painful.

"Lyda,” she said reluctantly.

"Okay, Lyda. I'm Boris. Come on, let's go get some water. Maybe some food, too.” He began walking,

pulling her along by her arm. His long-legged stride forced her into a half walk, half run in order to keep

up. His breath was heavy and gasping, with a wheeze to it like his throat was dry, the same as the gritty

desert sand. He led her through and around small groups of people for what she thought was somewhere

around a half mile and halted beside a large outcropping of rock that provided shade for a scruffy looking

gang of men and women.

A big dark-haired man stepped forward, holding a sharp, pointed rock in his fist. He also wore a two,

perhaps three day day beard. “What we got here?” he asked. His question was asked in a pleasant tone

of voice that contrasted with his feral appearance. He reminded Lyda of wolverines she had read about,

only bigger.

"Something to trade,” Boris said deferentially to the big man. Now he was holding Lyda by both arms,

forcing her to stand in front of him.

Lyda began to grasp what was going on now. There was a pile of supplies being guarded by this group.

Each man held either a rock or a pocket knife in his hand. Several of the women had armed themselves

as well. She could see what looked like red bricks stacked in piles beside open tubs of water. The tubs

were made of some gray material. While she stood there, a woman leaned over one of the tubs and

cupped water in the palms of her hands and lifted it to her mouth. She did this several times, then stood

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up. The woman was closely accompanied by a man wearing jeans and holding a rock in his hand. He

grinned at the woman like she was a prize he had just won from the coin toss at a county fair. He reached

out with his free hand and squeezed one of her breasts. The woman winced, but stood stoically. Then he

led her around the stone outcropping, his hand already sliding down under the waistband of her slacks.

"She's too young,” the big man said, still speaking pleasantly, looking at her, not the couple who had just

left. Lyda detected an undertone to his voice, like the trill of a clear mountain stream that held poisonous

algae beneath its surface.

"She's a virgin, Big Bill. Never been had. Ought to be worth something."

Lyda made a violent effort to wrench herself out of Boris’ grip. She got one arm free. Before she could

use her loose arm to try to claw or strike her captor, he had his forearm under her chin, pressing up so

hard, she couldn't breathe.

The man named Big Bill laughed. “She's a feisty one. All right. One brick and all the water you can

drink. Then go."

"But ... Big Bill..."

"That's all. I could just take her."

Boris relented. He shoved Lyda forward into Big Bill's arms and scurried for the water tubs. He drank

thirstily, got tossed one of the red bricks and was told to leave. He was munching on it as he walked

away, not looking back.

The red bricks are food, Lyda thought. So strange looking, they might be from the aliens. Like the water

tubs. But the food and water both should be rationed.This isn't fair! Her mind swirled with conflicting

desires; for water, for getting out of the grasp of this man's arms, for a sudden need to find someplace

private to relieve herself. And what Boris had said about her being a virgin—did that mean...

"Come along,” Big Bill said. “May as well get you broke in. There's one in the Rocky Mount gang likes

‘em young. But me first. Ain't never tried one as young as you before."

Lyda couldn't avoid his meaning now. As he began pulling her toward the back of the rock where the

other couple had gone, she reached around and bit down on one of his fingers and tried to yank herself

free.

"Goddamn!” Big Bill shouted, but he kept his hold on her.

Retaliation was swift. The hand Lyda had bitten grabbed her by the front of her jacket. His other hand

swung violently against her head with bruising force, even though he hadn't made a fist. For a moment,

Lyda felt only a dizzy numbness. Then the pain hit, like three dentists pushing needles into her jaw all at

once. She felt her lip and cheek on one side of her head begin to swell. She licked at the salty blood that

began oozing from her mouth and felt tears coursing down her cheeks.

Big Bill shook her like a dachshund shaking a gopher he had just dug from the ground. “You do that

again and I'll beat you so bad, nobody will pay you water, or food either. Hear?"

Pay? What pay?Lyda's mind swung from thoughts of water to the throbbing in her jaw, to a sudden

urgent need to urinate.

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ThiseBookispublishedbyFictionwisePublicationswww.fictionwise.comExcellenceineBooksVisitwww.fictionwise.comtofindmoretitlesbythisandothertopauthorsinScienceFiction,Fantasy,Horror,Mystery,andothergenres.DoubleDragonPublishingwww.double-dragon-ebooks.comCopyright©2005byDarrellBainDoubleDragonPublishing...

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Darrell Bain - Savage Survival.pdf

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Darrell Bain - Savage Survival

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