HARI
Hari hated hotel beds and this had to be the most uncomfortable pillow ever. But when she banged her fist against it to soften it up, she heard a voice nearby say, “Ow!”
She opened her eyes and realized her head was on someone’s lap. And through that someone’s jeans she could feel an erection pressing against the back of her head.
“Whoa!” she said, jerking upright to face Donny. The foil blanket fluttered around them. It all came back in a rush. “How did that happen?”
“You conked out,” Donny said.
“And landed on you?”
“It was sort of a slow-motion fall.”
She looked around. Nothing had changed: the green aurorae still flickered in a starless sky. How long had she been out? The reflective blanket, augmented by intermittent blasts from the Tahoe’s heater, had been keeping them comfortable. Too comfortable, apparently. Sleep deprivation had caught up to her.
“Why didn’t you wake me?”
He waved his hands. “I’m a firm believer in catching as many winks as you can whenever you can. And besides, I kind of liked it.”
She gave the bulge under his fly zipper a quick pat. “‘Kind of’?”
“Do not do that!” he said, pressing his knees together.
“I’m not a cougar, and are you really that horny?”
“Only when you’re around.”
She had to laugh. “I know it’s dark but did you happen to see my eyes roll?”
“No, but I heard them.”
Hari couldn’t say exactly why—not even approximately why—but his perfect quip seemed to flip a Why not? switch in her and she gave in to an insane impulse.
“Oh, hell,” she said and leaned over and kissed him on the lips.
He responded and soon their tongues were dueling and their hands were roving and she was rubbing that bulging fly and his fingers had just closed around one of her breasts when something went thump! against the passenger side of the car.
The heat growing within Hari flash-froze to ice.
“What was that?” she said. “There’s not supposed to be anything moving out there.”
“Tell me about it. Maybe it was just the car settling or—”
Hari suppressed a scream when she saw the slim black tendril sliding up the rear window.
“Where’d that come from?” she whispered.
“Oh, shit!” Donny said, also keeping his voice low. He pressed the side of his face against the passenger window for a better look. “Oh, shit!”
“What-what-what?” She didn’t want to know but she had to know. “What is it?”
“It looks like a giant clump of crude oil that’s washed up from a tanker spill, except it’s moving…oozing out pseudopods like an amoeba.”
What?
“This isn’t a time for jokes, Donny.”
“Who’s joking? It’s partially under the car and it’s big, Hari. You can probably see it on your side too.”
Hari hesitated, then peeked out her window.
Donny’s description had been right on the money: an amorphous flattened blob with a glossy tarry surface reflecting the aurora. It moved like an amoeba, extending pseudopods then flowing into them. Here and there a black, antennalike tendril jutted from its surface and undulated in the air. One of these had struck the rear window.
A dozen feet beyond this one she spotted another dark shape slithering along the ground.
“I see it,” she said. “And it’s not alone. But where do they come from? The ground is solid, no nooks or crannies or crevices. Where were they hiding?”
Donny said, “Better question: How many are there?”
“One way to find out.”
As Hari reached for the steering column, Donny said, “Maybe we ought to—”
She turned on the headlights.
“—think about that—oh, Christ!”
As before, the beams lit up the ranks of semi-trailers. But unlike before, they had glistening ebony creatures crawling over them.
Whatever they were, the plateau appeared to be home to hundreds of these things.
“Are they eating the food?” Donny said.
“The containers inside the trailer I checked showed no damage. Either they can’t get in or they don’t eat human food—if you can call freeze-dried scrambled eggs and beef Stroganoff human food.”
The oil clumps had all been in motion when she’d turned on the lights, but now they froze in place. Even their antenna-tendrils had stopped waving.
“What happened?” Donny said. “Did you scare them?”
“Maybe I should turn the lights off.”
“No, wait. They’re moving again.”
Yes, moving again…the ones climbing the semis reversed direction and oozed toward the ground. And those on the ground…
“Christ, they’re heading this way!” He began hammering the steering wheel. “Turn off the lights, turn off the lights!”
Hari was already there. Darkness returned as the headlights died, but green flashes from the aurora-strewn sky reflected off the surfaces of the clumps.
“They’re still headed this way,” Hari whispered, her mouth going dry. “Why? What do they want?”
“Maybe you triggered some phototropic response.”
“But the lights are out.”
“Maybe it’s sound…or heat.” The survival blanket had bunched up during their clinch. He spread it over them again and said, “Get back under here.”
Huddling under the blanket made no difference—the things kept coming. Soon they surrounded the Tahoe, reaching up and slapping the fenders and hood and windows with their tendrils.
And then they started crawling onto the vehicle, one after another, slithering up the sides, blocking the auroral light and engulfing the Tahoe in squirming darkness.
“I don’t think it’s light or heat,” Donny said. “It’s us they want.”
Hari jabbed the door-lock button and said, “They can’t get in, can they?”
“I think we’re safe.”
“What’ll happen if we start the engine?”
“Let’s not find out.”
“We have to get them off us, Donny. How will we know when the passage reopens? And how will we reach it when it does?”
“Maybe they’ll get frustrated and go away. Did you happen to notice what time it was?”
Hari hadn’t, so she turned the key. The dashboard lit up and the clock read 11:46.
Donny groaned. “Six hours left.”
In the wash from the dashboard lights Hari noticed a number of pale spots on the windshield. She turned on the courtesy lights. Yes…about a dozen pale, dime-sized circles on the glass.
“What’s
