Laird Barron [Barron - The Imago Sequence And Other Stories

The Imago Sequence and Other Stories 2007 by Laird Barron
This edition of The Imago Sequence and Other Stories 2008
by Night Shade Books
Cover art 2007 by Eleni Tsami
Cover design by Claudia Noble
Interior layout and design by Jeremy Lassen
"Old Virginia" 2003 by Laird Barron. Originally published in The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, February 2003.
"Shiva, Open Your Eye" 2001 by Laird Barron. Originally published in The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, September 2001.
"Procession of the Black Sloth" 2007 by Laird Barron. Original to this collection.
"Bulldozer" 2004 by Laird Barron. Originally published online on SCIFICTION, August 25, 2004.
"Proboscis" 2005 by Laird Barron. Originally published in The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, February 2005.
"Hallucigenia" 2006 by Laird Barron. Originally published in The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, June 2006.
"Parallax" 2005 by Laird Barron. Originally published online on SCIFICTION, September 07, 2005.
"The Royal Zoo Is Closed" 2006 by Laird Barron. First published in Phantom #0, 2006.
"The Imago Sequence" 2005 by Laird Barron. Originally published in The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, May 2005.
First Edition
978-1-59780-146-1
Night Shade Books
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I am deeply indebted to the editors and publishers who've brought out my work over the years: Ellen Datlow; Gordon Van Gelder; David G. Hartwell; Kathryn Cramer; Nick Mamatas; Sean Wallace; Andrew Fuller; Martin Sust; Pawe Ziemkiewicz; and John Betancourt. I'm tremendously honored to become part of the Night Shade Books authors' linethank you, Jason and Jeremy.

Thank you to Cory & Catska Ench and the Ench Gallery.

I wish to express profound gratitude to the following individuals for their support in writing and life: Professor Bradley Steiner, Ben Andrews,

Chellemiko, C.E Chaffin, John Langan, and Jody Linn Rose.

Special thanks to my family: Barbara and Erin Baar; Jason & William Barron; Alison and Prakash Stirret; and Leah and Hun Ling Zhu.

On the third morning I noticed that somebody had disabled the truck. All four tires were flattened and the engine was smashed. Nice work.

I had gone outside the cabin to catch the sunrise and piss on some bushes. It was cold; the air tasted like metal. Deep, dark forest at our backs with a few notches for stars. A rutted track wound across a marshy field into more wilderness. All was silent except for the muffled hum of the diesel generator behind the wood shed.

"Well, here we go," I said. I fired up a Lucky Strike and congratulated my pessimistic nature. The Reds had found our happy little retreat in the woods. Or possibly, one of my boys was a mole. That would put a pretty bow on things.

The men were already spookedDavis swore he had heard chuckling and whispering behind the steel door after curfew. He also heard one of the doctors gibbering in a foreign tongue. Nonsense, of course. Nonetheless, the troops were edgy, and now this.

"Garland? You there?" Hatcher called from the porch in a low voice. He made a tall, thin silhouette.

"Over here." I waited for him to join me by the truck. Hatcher was my immediate subordinate and the only member of the detail I'd personally worked with. He was tough, competent and a decade my juniorwhich made him twice as old as the other men. If somebody here was a Red, I hoped to God it wasn't him.

"Guess we're hoofing it," he said after a quick survey of the damage.

I passed him a cigarette. We smoked in contemplative silence. Eventually I said, "Who took last watch?"

"Richards. He didn't report any activity."

"Yeah." I stared into the forest and wondered if the enemy was lurking. What would be their next move, and how might I counter? A chill tightened the muscles in the small of my back, reminded me of how things had gone wrong during '53 in the steamy hills of Cuba. It had been six years, and in this business a man didn't necessarily improve with age. I said, "How did they find us, Hatch?"

"Strauss may have a leak."

It went without saying whatever our military scientists were doing, the Reds would be doing bigger and better. Even so, intelligence regarding this program would carry a hefty price tag behind the Iron Curtain. Suddenly this little field trip didn't seem like a babysitting detail anymore.

Project TALLHAT was a Company job, but black ops. Dr. Herman Strauss had picked the team in secret and briefed us at his own home. Now here we were in the wilds of West Virginia standing watch over two of his personal staff while they conducted unspecified research on a senile crone. Doctors Porter and Riley called the shots. There was to be no communication with the outside world until they had gathered sufficient data. Upon return to Langley, Strauss would handle the debriefing. Absolutely no one else inside the Company was to be involved.

This wasn't my kind of operation, but I had seen the paperwork and recognized Strauss' authority. Why me? I suspected it was because Strauss had known me since the first big war. He also knew I was past it, ready for pasture. Maybe this was his way to make me feel important one last time. Gazing at the ruined truck and all it portended, I started thinking maybe good old Herman had picked me because I was expendable.

I stubbed out my cigarette and made some quick decisions. "When it gets light, we sweep the area. You take Robey and Neil and arc south; I'll go north with Dox and Richards. Davis will guard the cabin. We'll establish a quarter mile perimeter; search for tracks."

Hatcher nodded. He didn't state the obvious flawwhat if Davis was playing for the other team? He gestured at the forest. "How about an emergency extraction? We're twenty miles from the nearest traveled road. We could make it in a few hours. I saw some farms; one will have a phone"

"Hatch, they destroyed the vehicle for a reason. Obviously they want us to walk. Who knows what nasty surprise is waiting down that road? For now we stay here, fortify. If worse comes to worst, we break and scatter. Maybe one of us will make it to HQ."

"How do we handle Porter and Riley?"

"This has become a security issue. Let's see what we find; then I'll break the news to the good doctors."

My involvement in Operation TALLHAT was innocentif you can ever say that about Company business. I was lounging on an out-of-season New York beach when the telegram arrived. Strauss sent a car from Virginia. An itinerary; spending money. The works. I was intrigued; it had been several years since the last time I spoke with Herman.

Director Strauss said he needed my coolness under pressure, when we sat down to a four-star dinner at his legendary farmhouse in Langley. Said he needed an older man, a man with poise. Yeah, he poured it on all right.

Oh, the best had said it too Put his feet to the fire; he doesn't flinch. Garland, he's one cool sonofabitch. Yes indeed, they had said it thirty years ago. Before the horn rims got welded to my corrugated face and before the arthritis bent my fingers. Before my left ear went dead and my teeth fell out. Before the San Andreas Fault took root in my hands and gave them tremors. It was difficult to maintain deadly aloofness when I had to get up and drain my bladder every hour on the hour. Some war hero. Some Company legend.

"Look, Roger, I don't care about Cuba. It's ancient history, pal." Sitting across the table from Strauss at his farmhouse with a couple whiskey sours in my belly it had been too easy to believe my colossal blunders were forgiven. That the encroaching specter of age was an illusion fabricated by jealous detractors of which great men have plenty.