This choice: Continue reading "The Puppetmasters: An Oral History" • Go Back...Chapter #28The Puppetmasters: An Oral History (4) by: Seuzz   As I mentioned earlier, I was not privy to my rider's thoughts and plans, and had no thoughts of my own to spare in wondering what was happening in the school or elsewhere. To the extent I've been able to deduce the events o f those first few days, and of my own role in furthering the invasion, it comes from reading what others--other survivors and those that turned back the Titans--saw and deduced.
So I can only hazard that the first few days we placed a fairly light footprint in the school: taking many of the staff and teachers, but only such students as would be immediately helpful outside the school. That meant the children of those in positions of influence and authority: policemen, doctors, prominent businessmen, the clergy. Most of the slugs we imported in the school were meant to pass through it, in the care of those students we captured. The school as a whole fell only later. That's because the number of Titans in the early stages was very limited.
But I helped. I had P.E. last period, and arrived early. Coach Wirthlin called me into his office. There was no need for the slugs to conference, for it was just as easy to receive my instructions verbally. He told me who in the class would be captured, and how we would do it.
I was excepted from having to change out. Once the others had assembled on the gym floor, Coach sent the bulk of the class outside to do laps. The chosen remainder he said would go in for "weighing" first. One by one he summoned them into the little room next to his office and put them on the scale; I stood behind with one of the ice chests, and as my classmates concentrated on the numbers in front of them, I stepped up behind and put a slug on each bare neck. There were only six, and when we were done they changed back into regular clothes; Coach gave all of us passes and sent us to the library; to me he gave a list of names--our new and satisfied recruits--to take to the office.
* * * * *
Vine and George McLain had skipped school to continue working on the "flying saucer," and when school let out I went with Brett and Ken to help finish it up. Even from a distance it didn't look the least bit convincing. The silver-tinted sheets that made up its "body" glinted in the afternoon light, but they rippled in the wind. The bulk of the craft was as squat and square as a shoebox; atop it, they had rigged a kind of cupola to serve as a central "dome." They had firmly braced the sides at one point and set a ladder against it, so that patrons could clamber up to the "hatch" and descend into the dark interior via another ladder. They had swept the insides as clear as they could and layered it over with old mattresses and quilts and sheets. A flap in the back offered a hidden egress.
They were mostly done, and into the late afternoon we worked to reinforce the struts and otherwise firm up the structure. We moved crates of Titans and incubators inside. We talked in muted tones about where we'd position the Titans and how we'd use the darkness to take visitors as they descended the ladder.
Around about six, we heard the growl of a motor, and Vine, who was topside, called down sharply. We joined him just in time to see the old pickup truck lurch to a halt by the "ship," its fender just shy of a main supporting beam. Harry Gibson and Sam Haley got out of the cab, while Mike Skinner, Bobby Talmadge, Jeff Green, and Eric Isaacson leaped out of the bed. They all stared at the saucer with sneering, gleaming eyes.
"So this is the thing from another world," Sam jeered. "What a lotta junk."
"If I farted on it, I could blow it over," Bobby agreed. Like the others, he was a football player, with a meaty frame stitched tightly into his dungarees and short-sleeve plaid shirt.
"Care to see inside, sir," Brett asked with cheerful courtesy. "Only a dollar more."
They all started at his tone, and broke into guffaws. "How much you pay me not to kick it over," Harry retorted, and raised a huge foot.
Sam caught him. "Nah, let's check out our investment."
"Our investment?" George echoed, and frowned.
But our first guests ignored him. "What, you get in through here?" Harry said, and dashed easily up the ladder. "Come on, Sam."
Haley followed him up, and the other three crowded after them, but Vine and George stopped them. "Only room to go in one at a time," George said.
Brett and I scrambled up after Haley and Gibson, who shifted only a little to let us squeeze onto the platform next to them. Brett slid down into the interior, and I followed. "Just come on down when you're ready," I hollered up through the hatch.
Brett already had two Titans out as Harris and Sam followed more slowly, but I stayed his hand. "All three?" I asked the football players. They grunted an affirmative.
Jeff was the first one down, and twisted around too fast for Brett to get at him, and my colleague had to step back and shield the slug he held from Green's sight. "So what am I supposed to be looking at?" he demanded.
"Hey, what's that over there," Harry asked, and put his hand on Jeff's shoulder. He gently pressed him around, and when Green had turned far enough, Brett leaped for him. It was like a squirrel jumping onto a St. Bernard, and they grunted and gasped softly as Brett tried to get the Titan onto Green. Jeff went down on all fours, and then collapsed in a heap.
Talmadge was already inside by that point. "What's going on," he demanded, for even in the dim light it was possible to make out the tangle of limbs formed by Jeff and Brett. Harris and Sam seized him by the arms and forced him toward me. I snatched a slug out of an incubator, forced Bobby's head down with my free hand--it was like trying to bend an oak tree--and slapped the Titan onto the back of his neck with the other. He too crumpled onto a mattress.
"Get down here, Skinner, we're all waiting," Harry called. I looked up at the indistinct blob framed against the blue sky by the hatch. It wavered there for a moment, and then vanished. Vine and George yelled; then the walls of the saucer shook as something heavy hit the ground.
Haley and Gibson rocketed up the ladder, and I followed. Skinner was dashing for the truck, but as he laid a hand on the door handle he looked back, then took off across the field as Harry and Sam pounded after him. I leaped to the ground and helped Vine and George up.
Sam ran after Mike, but Harry jumped into his truck and started it with a roar. Its wheels spun against loose dirt and grass and he wheeled around to give chase. Something brushed past me, and Brett, a Titan in his hand, was sprinting after them. But Vine and George and I just watched.
Skinner had made it halfway across the field to where the dirt track joined a farm road before Harry caught up to him. He clipped his teammate with the fender of the truck, and Skinner went up, tumbling over the cab and falling into the dust. Then Sam was on top of him. Harris's brake lights showed as he skidded to a halt.
I turned at the feel of a strong hand on my shoulder: It was Bobby Talmadge, but he was gazing intently past me at the distant scrum. Green appeared at our side a moment later. When I looked back, Brett had caught up to the others, and he and Sam and Harris were huddled over the broken body of Mike Skinner.
I don't know what story got told to explain the accident that put Skinner in the hospital for a week. It wouldn't have mattered, and maybe no story even got told. The doctors would have ignored the reddish-brown mass that pulsed between his shoulder blades, and his father--the preacher at the town's big Baptist church, who was the final intended target--wouldn't have cared either after Harris and Sam had paid him a visit. Skinner looked pretty banged up when he returned to school, but by that point we didn't have anything to say to each other.
No one at the school had anything to say to each other.
* * * * *
To continue investigating the room: "Disposing of Lucy"   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
| Members who added to this interactive story also contributed to these: |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author