James Axler – Gaia’s Demise

“There’s something odd with the atmosphere, sure enough.” she stated, staring hard at J.B. for a moment before forcing her mind back to reality. What was wrong with her? All she could think about was sex! Was that the problem?

Taking a lungful of air, Mildred walked into the entrance and waited. Nothing happened and she felt no different. Exhaling, the physician allowed herself a small sip of air, and her hips ached as her tingling breasts brushed against the soft fabric of her bra. Hastily, she rushed outside, gasping for breath.

“What’s wrong, Millie?” J.B. said, holding her by the arms.

“S-some sort of drug,” she replied, shaking. “Makes you crazy for sex. Probably once you go in, you never come out again.”

“So the wags are bait,” Dean decided.

“A logical deduction,” Doc mused, leaning on his stick. “How utterly vulgar.”

“Utterly lethal,” Mildred corrected. “The question is, how do we check inside? What we need are gas masks.”

“I know something just as good,” J.B. said, slinging his blaster. “Got any shine?”

The teenager produced a bottle with less than half an inch of brown fluid. “What for?”

“Protection,” the Armorer said, taking the bottle and splashing some of the homemade whiskey on a handkerchief.

Breathing through the reeking cloth, he approached the sports arena. The alcohol fumes were giving him a slight headache, but aside from that he felt normal. Holding his breath while he anointed the cloth again, J.B. walked around the dead muties and ventured farther, past the stairs, to finally reach the playing field.

In the dim moonlight, the scene explained itself. Bodies lay everywhere, and a huge blossoming flower sat in the middle of a hundred rusting wags. Their own backpacks were lying clearly in sight at the base of the huge plant. An offering to the god of the greenies, or bait for them? On a hunch, he fired a few rounds from the Uzi at the huge blossom. The stalk shook from the passage of the bullets, but there was no other effect. Realizing the shine was exhausted, J.B. retreated even faster than he entered.

“The bastard thing must feed off the bodies as they rot away,” he finished explaining to the others.

“What if you were alone?” Dean asked.

It was a good question. “Probably just do yourself to death,” J.B. said, passing the boy his stuttergun. “However, there’s enough wags in there for an army, some of them in good condition, I’m going to steal us some wheels to replace the horses.”

“Not enough,” Jak stated, inspecting the bottle. “Here,” Mildred said, passing over the bottle of witch hazel from her med kit. “Use it sparingly. That’s all we have.”

J.B. removed the cap and took a sniff. “Whew! Even better than the shine. This’ll work fine.”

“Not go alone. I come,” Jak said, digging a rag from his jacket. It was stained with oil from cleaning his blaster, but still serviceable. “Get backpacks first?”

“I’m going to chill that big flower first,” J.B. corrected, shoving two more shells into the feed of his shotgun. “That seems to be the source of the drug.”

“How are you doing to ace the weed?” Dean asked, shouldering the Uzi. “Bullets didn’t work.”

The Armorer frowned. “I know, and setting it on fire might only make the perfume deadly. We need some way to neutralize that bastard thing, kill it root and branch.”

“Maybe there is some herbicide in one of the stores,” Mildred hesitantly suggested, glancing at the ruins. “No, these are office buildings and such. Not a hardware store or greenhouse in sight.”

“Explosives?” Jak asked.

J.B. frowned. “If we had a lot, sure.”

“How about car batteries?” Doc suggested.

“Yeah, not bad,” J.B. said, considering the idea. “Good call. I think that should work fine. Jak with me. Doc, Dean, you two are on guard duty. Mildred, see what you can do with Ryan and Krysty. Don’t start a fire. We aren’t going be here that long.”

Holding the witch-hazel-soaked masks, the men stealthily entered the sports arena. The bones of a hundred corpses littered the floor, bits of clothing and boots visible amid the greenery. Backpacks and duffel bags were prominent lumps, and the barrels of discarded weapons were everywhere. The men walked hurriedly among the wags, inspecting them for damage and rust. Too many of the vehicles were civilian cars with bald tires, the bodies stripped of bumpers, seats and chrome to save weight and increase gas mileage. Few had hoods, and none had batteries.