by Thomas Stone
“Oh, look,” said Jennings jovially, “what have we here?”
Luther’s men held their fire as the simulcon jumped from the truck to the ground.
A snarl crossed Luther’s lips. “I can blow you apart before that thing can reach the first man.”
Jennings grinned and shifted weight. “But you are the first man, Luther. Take a second to think about it.”
Hatred filled Luther’s eyes as he was forced to re-consider. For a long moment, no one said anything. Without warning, a shriek issued forth from one of the dilapidated buildings across the street. Jennings and Fagen reacted immediately by bringing their weapons to bear at the shadows and crouching low. Luther didn’t shift the aim of his weapon away from Jennings but instead turned to look for the source of the sound, a sound he recognized as the terrified voice of one of his men. “What’s happening?” he whispered into his mic. No one knew so there was no reply.
From the darkness, an object was tossed out into the street with such force it rolled a full ten meters before finally coming to rest on its side. Everyone stared at the bloody head of Luther’s third shooter, a fellow named Joe Reeves who lately was known for a running argument with Griswold over one of the few single women in Jennings Bank. Fagen and Jennings took the opportunity to seek cover under Minerva-Too. Luther turned back just in time to see Jennings disappearing under the truck. He pulled back the firing bolt on the M-71 and re-directed his aim at the simulcon that still stood impassively in the same place.
“Call off your dog,” he shouted to Jennings, “or this is going to get messy.”
“Looks like it already did,” Jennings shouted back.
There was a crash from the deserted building where the dead man had been hiding and Luther reacted by swiveling the gun and spraying the building with explosive rounds. His men, already trigger-happy, joined in the melee until nothing was left standing where the old wooden structure had been.
Assuming one of the creatures was there in the deserted town, Luther’s men were wild-eyed with fear. Without a command from Luther, each pick-up truck, in turn, slipped into gear.
“No, wait,” shouted Luther but his men weren’t listening. The vehicles on either side began rolling forward, then turning in a tight circle trying to head back the way they’d come. When his driver tried to follow, Luther pulled a pistol and pointed it at the driver’s head. The man felt the cold steel at his temple and took his foot from the accelerator. “We go when I say we go,” Luther told him.
As Luther looked through the windshield for Jennings, he felt a barrel at his own temple. From the corner of his eye, he saw Jennings leaning through the open side window, mouth open in a wide grin.
Jennings voice wavered with amusement. “Life’s funny, ain’t it? First you’re up, then you’re down, you think you’re out, then it’s all turned around. Har-har. Now look, you get out of here and go have a committee meeting or something while I take care of this business.”
“Or what?” snarled Luther.
Jennings looked surprised. “Or I’m gonna blow your brains out here and now.”
The driver, whose head was directly before Luther’s, leaned away.
“Remove the gun and we’ll do like you say.”
Jennings grinned. “Thought you’d see it my way.” He withdrew the Vimbacher. As the truck slowly turned away, Luther drilled Jennings with a hateful glare.
The simulcon sprang to life and crossed the street in long strides as it sought to search through the debris of the destroyed building.
*
Minerva’s voice came through Fagen’s earpiece. “I’m still not getting any abnormal sensor readings.”
Fagen looked at the oozing head in the middle of the street. “I don’t think we’ve got a case of spontaneous beheading here.”
He fished his infrared goggles from his belt and pulled them on. In an instant, what had been shadows became walls, corners, windows, and doorways. Jennings ran down the middle of the street after Luther Cross’ vehicle to ensure they were leaving Boomtown. Nothing else moved in front of Fagen and he suddenly realized how exposed he was. He was set to run after Jennings when motion caught his eye at the corner of the building on his side of the street. There was a brief image of a large crouching form. It seemed to sense Fagen’s attention and moved out of sight in the blink of an eye.
Fagen shouted for Minerva’s benefit and pointed, “There! At the corner of the building!”
In an instant, floodlights sprang to life from the front of the truck. The entire area was washed in harsh, blinding, white light. Fagen ripped the goggles from his head but had to wait for his eyes to re-adjust.
There was a lot of radio chatter. Minerva kept issuing sensor reports that showed nothing. Kathleen, who manned the simulcon, kept asking for everyone’s position as Jennings shouted for Griswold. The Ellis’s reported they were maintaining their positions. It was chaos and Fagen wondered how much longer it would take before the kitzloc took advantage of it.
Eyes adjusted, Fagen ran to where he’d seen the crouching form. Steeling himself, he stepped around the corner, weapon in hand and prepared to fire, but he found nothing. Footsteps from behind startled him and he whipped about to see Bobbi. He rolled his eyes at her. “Don’t do that,” he said. “Come with me,” he added, and the two began to walk along the side of Mickey’s Irish Pub, shining lights into corners and shadowed doorways.
At the back of the place they rounded the corner. Nothing. Not even tracks in the dirt.
“What did you see?” asked Bobbi.
“I don’t know. It was big and fast. It had a peculiar face.”
“How so?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it was the poor lighting. I only got a glimpse. It was distorted but it looked like it had a face. I don’t know what I was expecting, but not a face.”
“They got faces sometimes,” came Griswold’s voice from the darkness.
“What do you mean?” asked Fagen.
“Just what I said.” With a Vimbacher slung over his shoulder and a stained machete in hand, Griswold brushed past Fagen. “It’s long gone now.”
Jennings and the two Ellis’s came around the corner together as Griswold walked away.
Fagen stared after Griswold. “What is that guy’s problem?”
“Griswold?” Jennings said. “He’s just… mean.”
*
Harry and Minerva watched the entire incident via remote but never caught a glimpse of the creature until, at the end, sensors detected a shadow streaking across the mine fields and then disappearing without a trace into the desert beyond. Minerva passed the information to those on the ground.
*
Huddled before maps in the cab of Jennings’ truck, Griswold was all business but Jennings only seemed to loosen up as tension increased.
“So,” Jennings said to Fagen, “you see how it is. These things come out of nowhere; nobody sees anything save an occasional glimpse and then they’re gone like a cool breeze.”
“Lucky none of us was killed,” said Griswold.
“If old Joe Reeves could speak for himself, he’d disagree with that.”
Kathleen had found the third sniper’s body in the debris of the shot-up building. Jennings had identified the head as belonging to Reeves. They enclosed the corpse along with its head into an airtight body bag and stowed the bundle in Jennings’ truck. “He doesn’t have any family, but we need to take him back anyway. Some of the older women never miss a burial. It’ll give them something to do.”
Jennings turned back to the maps. “This is the spot we’re headed for. It’s just one of several I’ve been watching but I think it may be a lair. I’ll give you the coordinates and you can plot your own course. It’s a hundred and forty klicks of smooth driving and then close to fifty more through increasingly large dunes. I want to split our approaches over those last fifty so we can move in from different sides. We can observe until we’re satisfied one way or the other, then send in the simulc
ons. If needed, one of us can create a diversion for the other.”
Fagen said, “Why not look for the one that was just here? Maybe it’s made its lair in one of the old mining digs.”
Nodding his head, Jennings leaned back. “We could do that but I sincerely doubt there’s a lair down one of those old shafts.”
“Why?”
“Those shafts are man-made. At one time, there were workers all over the place. If a kitzloc had made its home prior to the digging, somebody would have noticed or bad stuff would have started happening sooner. I practically guarantee there’s no lair.”
Fagen looked at Jennings but spoke to Harry through his mic. “Harry, are you getting all this?”
Harry’s voice came back. “Yes. Jennings is partially correct in his assessment. The Crevah are scattered throughout the desert, but there is only one kitzloc per each Crevah, thus there is never a need to create another.”
“Their numbers are constant?”
“You could say that. However, all the Crevah are not necessarily inhabited at any given time. You’re making a mistake thinking that the Crevah are homes for kitzloc.”
“If they’re not homes, then where do the kitzloc stay?”
“They don’t stay anywhere. They roam and occasionally make visits to a Crevah.”
“Then what purpose do the Crevah serve?”
“That is a large question and difficult to answer.”
“Why? Because you don’t know?”
“No, I think I know the answer but it’s beyond your understanding. In any case, what we observed from here is that whatever it was, it’s gone now.”
Griswold frowned and shook his head. “What a cluster fuck.” He leaned to Jennings’ ear and said something unintelligible.
Chapter 5
“Come on,” said Jennings, “that guy’s off his rocker. You shouldn’t listen to him.”
Fagen eyed Jennings. “Harry is the reason we’re here.”
Jennings waved a hand. “Don’t give me that. You’re here for the essence. You and I both know it, so don’t act like you’re here out of the goodness of your heart.”
Fagen turned to exit the truck. “You can believe what you want.”
“I will,” said Jennings. “One other thing, don’t put me in a position where I have to depend on your pal.”
Fagen stopped and slowly turned. “I’ll get this done with or without your help. For your information, I’m bringing Irons back. I’m aware of the risks.” Fagen turned away without another word and exited the vehicle.
Through the open door, Jennings shouted after him, “That’s a bad idea, Fagen.”
*
When the spaceship descended just outside Boomtown, Jennings and his men watched from the shelter of a rundown shack, one wall knocked out years ago but still affording a good view of the landing. They kept their distance as Harry stepped from Minerva’s graceful hull down the sloping ramp to the gravelly surface.
On touching the ground, Harry glanced first glanced toward Jennings and his men, then sniffed the air and peered in the direction of the mines. Griswold and Jennings exchanged a glance. Harry looked back up the ramp and made a beckoning motion.
In response, Tringl came trudging down. At nearly two meters in height, well over three hundred pounds, orange crop of hair blazing in full sunlight, wearing a loincloth, an L. A. Lakers jersey, and sandals, Tringl was an imposing if not ridiculous sight. His expression was goofy. He squinted as he shaded his eyes from the sun and said something to Harry. Harry reached into a pocket, pulled out a large pair of sunshades, and placed them over Tringl’s eyes.
Jennings and his men had never seen a humanoid alien and reacted with alarm. Fagen saw their reaction and quickly strode over, issuing assurances that Tringl was benign, even friendly if given a chance.
“He helps to stabilize Harry’s condition.”
Jennings looked to Minerva-Too. “Going to be a tight fit; all of ya’ll traveling together.”
“We’ll manage.”
Kathleen met Harry at the ramp and kissed him on the cheek. Tringl, already slumping from the heat, followed as Kathleen and Harry went to the truck. Minerva pulled up the ramp and silently lifted off with the only turbulence coming from displaced air. Jennings and Griswold watched closely as Minerva quickly faded from view. Griswold said something to Jennings but so low Fagen couldn’t hear. Jennings shook his head and gazed upward again.
“All right then,” said Fagen, “let’s get going.”
“There’s been a slight change in plans.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah,” Jennings looked toward the mines. “We’ve decided to check out the mine shafts before we go. Griswold thinks the beast may have circled back.”
“These things are tricky,” growled Griswold.
Fagen was already shaking his head. “It’s not there. The last indication was that it passed through. It’s gone.”
Jennings pursed his lips. “I don’t want to take a chance. Seems to Griswold here that those shafts would be a prime spot for one of things to hide. We’ll check it out with the simulcons. It’ll give us a chance to check our gear and practice coordinating under live circumstances. Look, I gave you the coordinates. If you don’t want to help us here, then go on with our arrangements. We’ll follow along we make sure nothing is in those mines.”
“You’re supposed to be the guide.”
“To tell the truth, I’ve never been past Boomtown myself.”
“What if something happens and you don’t show up at all?”
“We’ll be there.” Jennings leaned into Fagen and lowered his voice. “Look, Griswold won’t leave if he thinks one of these things is at our back. It won’t hurt to appease him. To be honest, I’d bet the thing’s gone too.” Jennings straightened up to his full height. “Besides that, you brought Irons back. That’s just asking for trouble. I told you there’d be consequences.”
“All right,” Fagen said, resigning himself to the change in plans. “After you’ve wasted your time here, move to the planned coordinates. We’ll see you there.”
Jennings shrugged as Fagen turned and strode off.
“Whatever we find,” said Griswold, “is ours. We don’t have to share.”
“Come on, let’s get this done,” said Jennings.
Griswold halted Jennings with a beefy hand. “If we do find one in the mines, that wraps it up for me.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means after I get what I came for, I won’t be going any further.”
“Yeh, well, thanks for the info, but we still have to find it first. If it’s not in those shafts, we’re following the plan.”
“Okay by me,” said Griswold.
The two groups climbed aboard their respective vehicles and moved out in different directions, one toward the mines and the other into open desert.
*
Jennings drove his vehicle along a rough path around the mines until he reached the spiraling roadway that led to the staging floor. Mine shafts opened up at the bottom. Most were blocked or filled in with dirt and debris but a few were still open. Jennings found a wide area between two mounds of piled dirt and parked.
They checked the area carefully before disembarking. Although sensors showed nothing, the creature could have been anywhere, so they followed hastily established procedures and moved slowly. Jennings, Griswold, and the younger Ellis took control of the simulcons from within the protected confines of the truck while the elder Ellis sat at the main control console in the cab. His role was to watch sensor readings and coordinate the search by monitoring all communications.
He watched from the onboard cameras as the side of the truck opened and the simulcons, one by one, jumped to the ground. When all had exited, Ellis closed and locked the side door.
The robots were not as fancy as Fagen’s. They were older and relied more on armor than speed. Even so, each was fully armed with projectile weapons and flamethrowers as well as motion sensor
s and infrared scanners. They first double-checked the immediate area above ground, primarily looking for tracks. Finding nothing, they turned to inspect the largest and most obvious mining shaft.
As Jennings and Ellis approached the opening, Griswold set explosive charges at key areas around the truck and at the entrance to the shaft. By the time he was finished, Ellis had confirmed that the first thirty meters of the manmade tunnel was not only stable but empty.
Preparations complete, the three stood at the gaping mine entrance as they discussed their strategy. It wasn’t much of a strategy. They would enter the hole with one simulcon, Griswold, walking point and the other two to either side mere steps behind. In that manner, they intended to go as far as needed to insure the creature was not hiding somewhere inside. If nothing was found, they’d move to the next open shaft. There were only three open tunnels but none of the men knew how far underground they went.
As they moved into the mine, the elder Ellis continually monitored the quality of their comm signals. At designated intervals, Jennings or Griswold placed radio repeaters so their signals would not fade or drop off altogether. In a short time, they discerned nothing had been there for a long, long time.
While the truck was parked out of sight and the three hunters continued their search, Luther Cross’s convoy of three trucks reappeared on the flat desert surface. Moving quickly, they bypassed Boomtown and easily picked up the tracks left by Fagen’s truck.
“Looks like they’ve split up,” said Luther to his driver. “That’ll make it easier. We’ll hit the Earthers hard and then wait for Jennings to come to us.”
Luther put his field glasses down. “Let’s move out.”
The three old battered pick-up trucks began moving again in a westerly direction following Fagen’s tracks.
Jennings and his men never knew Luther had been there and likewise Luther never thought to follow Jennings’ tracks.