“You said the ladybugs are supposed to kill the creatures,” Nitsy said, “but what about the hosts? All those people out there?”
“Yeah,” Bradley chimed in. “Even if you kill all the microscopic ones… even if the ladybugs eat all the eggs growing on their heads, the people—”
“I like Nitsy’s word, the hosts,” Andre interrupted.
People sounded too personal. His wife, Lizzie, was probably out there somewhere, and he couldn’t afford to think of her as a person anymore. Sure, they hadn’t had the most romantic of relationships, but they were hitched, and that meant something to Andre. For all the bitching and complaining she did, there were a hundred good things about her.
Andre shook off the image of his wife cuddling up close to him on the couch to watch TV. Like an asshole, he’d started sitting in his personal reclining chair. That was a little bit fucked-up. He realized that now, and it was too late.
“They’re hosts,” Andre repeated.
“Sure,” Bradley said, “whatever. The ladybugs can’t eat the ones already inside the hosts, right?”
“Probably not,” Andre said. “Sadly, I think we’ll have to use the guns on them. But at least the little ones can’t jump on anybody else, you know what I mean?”
“Have to expect some casualties in a war,” Thomas said.
Andre liked that kid. It was a shame what happened to his parents, but he seemed like a smart boy.
It wasn’t a perfect plan, Andre knew that, but it was the only reasonable one he’d come up with, and like Thomas said, there were always casualties in war. This was definitely a war, and he was lucky to have a weapon that might turn the tide. It just so happened he’d started this farm a while back and had made a shit ton of money selling plastic containers of these ladybugs to farmers growing organic vegetables. It also just so happened ladybugs ate pesky insects… like lice.
Hal chewed his inner cheek and then finally said, “So, your plan is to have the ladybugs kill all the eggs and lice without hosts and then open fire on all the hosts?”
Andre shrugged, and even as he did so, he knew he hated his plan, but if it helped prevent the spread, it was something. The pounding on the door was starting to worry him a bit. He’d thought that solid barrier would have no problem keeping them out until he was ready to let them in, but they wanted in here something fierce. The door might not be able to hold them much longer. He needed to get the rest of them up here before he ran out of time.
When nobody asked any other questions, Andre nodded and walked into the tent. He was careful not to step on any of the ladybugs, which was hard to do with them everywhere. They moved around his feet, flew between his legs, and one landed on his arm. Picking it up gently and putting it on a leaf, Andre whispered to the bug, “Stay right here, buddy. I need all the soldiers I can get.”
At the back of the room, behind the large tree, was a Velcro flap that let him exit the tent. On the other side was a steel ladder that led up to the roof. He climbed it quickly, feeling his muscles wince and his wounds ache with each step. At the top, he unlocked a heavy hatch and shoved it open.
Next to the open hatch, he sat on the tar roof for a second. The siren was bolted to the edge, over near the front of the building, but he took a moment to appreciate the fresh, clean air outside. Inside felt stuffy to him. He’d spent so much time in the farm that he could barely appreciate the garden-like scent in there. Everyone else seemed to enjoy it. To him, it reminded him of the war and being underground and in the trenches. He felt claustrophobic in there.
If Carl had been around longer, he’d planned on bringing him into the business, mostly to help him run things in the farm while he was out handling most of the logistics. A ladybug farm required acquiring the bugs, which he did from a few spots in the country, bringing them here to the farm, and then finding buyers. All without drawing law enforcement. That was the best thing about Clydesville. The cops here were local. They lived in the same neighborhoods as the residents. They were friends. They didn’t pry unless they had good reason to. The state cops were a different matter.
The moans, grunts, and growls of the creatures, or hosts as he now thought of them, were loud from down below. They were still banging on the front door and the walls. They’d tear their way in eventually.
What is their plan?
What were they hoping to do? Andre had seen enough old Sci-Fi movies to know aliens often came to earth in search of things their planet lacked like water and oxygen. Maybe cows or anuses to probe. But these fuckers, if they were even aliens, seemed to want nothing more than to drive everybody mad. What was the point of that?
He thought back to the moment he shot the deer, and he couldn’t help feeling that was the start of it all. Before then, everything seemed normal. He’d gone on about his day the same way he had every other. Sure, he’d taken a few swigs of the sauce, which he wasn’t proud about since he’d vowed to kick the habit, but things were pretty good. With the farm going strong, he stood to make a substantial income.
Now, this shit.
“All right, you loud pricks! Keep it down! We’ll be gettin’ to you shortly.”
He teased them, but in reality, he wanted them to be as loud as they could be, so they’d attract more of their kind. Stepping to the edge of the roof, he looked down the mountain and saw the shopping center parking lot was now empty. He could see the majority of the road from here and he didn’t notice any of them walking, which meant most of them were already here or close.
“Good. Come on, you fuckers. Come to the dinner bell.”
Speaking of the bell, it was time to get the siren going again.
At the roof’s edge, Andre squatted down and cranked the handle. The blast was so loud it damn near deafened him. He knew he should have worn earplugs, but he’d forgotten them. After all, he’d been busy killing fuckin’ zombies for cryin’ out loud.
Hosts. They’re human. Remember that. They’re only hosts for these lousy pieces of shit.
With his ears ringing, Andre backed up while still in the seated position.
His ass bumped into something. His elbow felt it too, and it was furry. The siren was so loud he barely heard the skittering of what was clinging to the animal’s pelt, but it came to him loud enough to make his teeth clatter.
Something was behind him.
Something infected.
Andre was unarmed except for the knife at his belt. He hadn’t felt the need to carry his gun up here. He was supposed to be alone, at a higher elevation, where these things couldn’t get him.
From his peripheral vision, he spotted the nearby tree, and he knew. Whatever it was, it had climbed up onto the roof using that tree. Before he’d taunted them, they would have had no reason to come up to the roof, but he’d been a dumbass, and because of that, he was as good as dead.
He knew he was a goner, but at least he might have time to warn the others.
“Hal!” he yelled.
But as soon as that one word left his mouth, he felt the shower of blades hit his scalp. Like broken glass falling from fifty feet up, the tiny sharp pieces bit into him hard and his entire head felt like it was on fire. Bullets hit his skull, or at least that’s how it felt to him. For a second, he remembered the pain that had come with his leg being shot up in the war, and he thought, It feels like that… all over my head.
Then the ringing set in, the high-pitched scream that ran through his cranium and settled somewhere in his brain. He thought his eardrums might explode. Like a syringe had been shoved through one temple and out the other, his mind felt as if it had been skewered. Andre’s eyes watered and an odd numbness came over him.