The Scales

by Paul Sating

  They were about to embark on a dangerous mission that none of them were trained to do. Could you even train to invade government strongholds and face down the Screecher?

  “Gather ‘round,” Deputy Rodgers called out as more people made their way down the road. With vehicles lining both sides there was just enough room for ten or so to stand side by side, crammed together so as many as possible were able to hear. The rest would be briefed through a relay system. The gathered throng wouldn't affect their operations since the Black Suits were probably already aware. Patch said there were surveillance checkpoints along the road and throughout the Scales.

  The Black Suits were surely watching.

  Deputy Rodgers climbed onto the back of a pickup truck, lifted a megaphone to his mouth, and welcomed everyone. “Thank you again for helping the Tri-Counties through this challenging time. Let’s go over everything.” And with that, he refreshed them on their mission. His mood was dark, serious, and his tone relayed a spirit of relentless determination. In warning them that the Black Suits were watching and maybe even listening, he stood as the model of defiance, emboldening the small army. “They’re most likely already preparing. Our presence will unsettle them; the fact we’re here shows we’re no longer ignorant, but that doesn’t mean we’ll be able to walk into their compound freely. Execution is critical. We won’t catch them by surprise. Make no mistake about that. Losing that advantage means we need to execute perfectly, and that’s going to be extremely difficult. Each and every one of you must play your part. Watch each other’s back and proceed with caution.”

  For her part, Serenity just needed them to get her to her family. Her throat clenched. Nausea a temptation, promising fulfillment.

  Deputy Rodgers made everyone do a final equipment check and then rejoined Serenity in the middle of the growing circle. Rows of citizen warriors encircled them. Deputy Rodgers placed two fingers in his mouth and released a shrill whistle that pierced her ears. A commotion from the segment of the crowd that was closest to the Scales. Shaking voices, people constantly adjusting backpacks or lifting their weapons to eye-level to inspect them, heavy breathing indicated the collective tension as she was swallowed by the group. The bodies crowding near did little to reduce her anxiety.

  “What’s going on?” She craned her neck and stood on her toes to try to see the source of the sound. She was too short.

  Slowly, person-by-person, Serenity got her answer. What had started at the front now spread as row after row of residents of the Tri-Counties stepped off in the direction of the Scales to take up their positions. A thick swath spread out. Adrenaline fueled the steps of many in the crowd, but not enough. Some seemed reserved, held back. Serenity wished they would walk faster. This was worse than when the stupid freshman clogged up the hallways between classes. With each step forward she tried to find space in between people only for those gaps close.

  “Let’s go,” she growled.

  “There’s no sense in getting frustrated,” Patch said next to her.

  “I’m not,” she protested. “They need to get the hell out of the way so we can get to the front.”

  “That’s what Patch means,” Deputy Rodgers said. “We’re not going up there. We’re staying right here.”

  The corners of Patch’s eyes turned down. “Sorry Serenity, I didn’t want to fib, but you don’t be needing to take unnecessary risks. We’re going to keep you safe as possible. I know it’s not what you want, but let us do this for you, please.”

  Serenity stared at him dumbly, even as they continued the slow, plodding march toward the Scales. “What? We need to. You have to tell people what to do. Lead them. And I…I—”

  “We’re getting you to your family,” he promised.

  “And to do that, we have to get you to them,” Deputy Rodgers said. “And we can’t do that from the front. We…you'd be a sitting target for the Black Suits.”

  “Anyone who has been marked will be, but it’s you they’re really after,” Patch added.

  Serenity’s frustration was at her boiling point. “I’m no different than anyone who has been tagged!”

  “You woke the Screecher,” Patch said. “They know that. When you found it, it marked you, but it wouldn’t have woken without you. Remember who the Screecher is. In Atsidi, it’s been here for over a hundred years but, in some sense, I don’t imagine it’s lost its humanity. Somewhere inside that thing, his spirit still lives on. I’m not about to be guessing at his motivations because I can’t be understanding them, but he’s got reasons for being so connected to you.”

  “Because I have to call it, right? That’s what George said.” The craziness of what they were doing still didn’t feel real, even though she knew, she felt the connection with the Screecher. But communicating with Atsidi? Calling to him so he knew she was ready to complete the connection, still felt impossible. Patch provided no answers.

  But that couldn’t be achieved with the Black Suits in the way. They weren’t going to give up even in the face of this massive civilian army. Not until they had what they wanted. That was because she was the key to recapturing the Screecher for the first time in generations. The Black Suits needed her, alive. If Hilliard and the Black Suits wanted her, they were going to let her family go, safe and whole.

  Then, and only then would she do what was needed.

  It had to happen now before they took a chance of having the Screecher show up. If it did, it would find her but also kill hundreds of people in the process because Atsidi had lost his humanity.

  The vision of that slithery terror, standing thirty feet high, was so clear now. How many people had the chance to see their fate in physical form? The way it rose up, screaming its dominance before tearing a man in half and discarding him like garbage. Raw, animalistic, rage. She sensed it. It wasn’t nausea, and it never had been.

  She could see the Screecher. She could feel him/it.

  Her head swam again as the pressure filled it, blurring her vision. Vomit filled the base of her throat. Just like…

  Oh my God!

  Vomit threatened to choke her. The air was thick, hot. Oppressive. Unable to breathe.

  “Move!”

  She shoved aside people in front of her. Some turned in confusion, others in panic, but the authority in her voice spurred each one into compliance. Like rippling water, row after row of Tri-County warriors parted, outwardly squeezing together to create room for Serenity to pass.

  Behind her, Patch and the deputy cursed. She bounded forward, yelling back to them as she went. “We need to move. Quickly!” Rows upon rows of heads bobbed up and down. Shoulders touching shoulders formed a line of demarcation that no longer felt like protection, but a prison. As if connected by an invisible tether, the mass seemed to move as one, agonizingly slow. Deputy Rodgers caught up to her. He didn’t grab her, hold her, or prevent her from moving forward. He respected her even as he questioned her actions.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I need to get to them.”

  “I know that, but we’ve got to stick to the plan.”

  “You make sure they do.” Passing another row of Tri-County warriors, more light filtered through the gaps. The end must be approaching. “But we can’t wait; we’ve got to get to my family.”

  “We will, Serenity,” he said. More people moved out of the way, worry now etching their faces at this exchange. “We need to proceed carefully because—”

  “It’s on its way!” Serenity spun to face him.

  Deputy Rodgers stepped back.

  Each wasted second was a second more they gave to the Screecher, and they weren’t ready. If they didn’t get in position, they were sitting targets. There was no time to explain; she wasn’t even sure if she could.

  “It’s coming, deputy. Now! We’ve only got a few minutes. You need to get these people set up or it will kill all of them.”

  His widened eyes blinked once and then, whether or not he understood, she knew he believed. Even as the swarm of
people moved around them, glancing nervously as they sensed something was happening they needed to know, Deputy Rodgers took on a new air. His chest swelled. “Go!” he shouted, pointing outward toward the Scales. “Get to your stations now. Move! Move! Move!”

  A switch flipped. Swirling forward, like a cloud of smoke blown by crossed wind currents, Tri-Countians joined the unquestioning race toward the towering heaps of metal. Quicker, faster. Momentum surged. The hundreds still making their way down the road behind them noticed the commotion and reacted. Many hefted their gear to a better position and started jogging, picking up the pace as space opened in front. Some weaved through the parked vehicles and took to the uneven sand, racing alongside their brethren who stuck to the road.

  She nodded at Deputy Rodgers and mouthed ‘thank you.’

  And then she ran.

  Because time was up.

  35

  “That’s it,” Serenity said, crouching behind a four-foot high strut that looked to have toppled over decades ago, half buried in sand.

  “Yes,” Patch said between heavy breaths.

  “Are you okay?” Serenity asked. “You don’t look so good.” He smelled even worse.

  Patch’s gaze never left Colossus, the massive rusty beam reaching into the desert sky that marked the entrance to the shaft. The place where she’d find her family. Somewhere down there, below the desert.

  “It’s hot, and I’m old.” He gulped air, finally looking away. “But don’t you be worrying over me, young one. I’ve lived a hundred lifetimes; a little heat won’t bother me much. No, sir. Getting you in there is the only thing requiring worry.”

  “I’m leading you down,” Deputy Rodgers said from her other side.

  Serenity didn’t argue. She had no idea what to expect, no idea how they would descend or what to do once they did. Having the deputy along gave her confidence. They couldn’t get close enough to the shaft to be certain what waited for them. And Patch’s description was light on the details, his memory muddled by the intervening decades. Deputy Rodgers said they had to be ready for anything since they couldn’t expect the Black Suits not to have prepared traps around their only vulnerability.

  All around them, spread out at stations designated as offensive and defensive positions, the people of the Tri-Counties waited. Some were close, others were hundreds of yards away but they were there, waiting and ready. Periodically, a head or two popped over a pile of scrap metal, checking for activity. The Scales was quiet, tense. Without radio communication, anything and everything was communicated visually or by using runners, which they tried to keep to a minimum to avoid putting people at risk. The Black Suits had to know they were here and were already holding defensive positions themselves, waiting for the moment to drop. An easy target, like a runner in the open, would be one less person to worry about. They had to mitigate risks.

  But runners and even hand signals took time, something they had in short supply.

  The Screecher was coming. Serenity felt its approach, something like a flicker of flame that was growing into a raging fire. Her nausea worsened; heaps of metal shimmered under the sun, undulated in her vision. That she hadn’t vomited yet surprised Serenity, because it was there, constantly threatening.

  And it would only get worse the closer the Screecher came.

  “We need to go.” She turned to the old man next to her who had changed her world and was now responsible for saving her family. Laying a hand on his shoulder, she summoned the courage to smile. “Thank you for everything.”

  Patch pulled his gaze away from the shaft and laid a liver-spotted hand on top of hers. “I’d be doing it a thousand times more if’n I could. You’re a good kid, Serenity…a fine, young woman. You’re going to change lives.” Patch’s eyelids flickered as he tried to blink away tears. “Now, get going and get your family back. We ain’t got all day.”

  With one last squeeze of hands, Serenity nodded to Deputy Rodgers, who gave his own in return. He let loose that two-fingers-to-mouth whistle again. Heads popped up around the encirclement. The signal sent, Rodgers jumped to his feet and raced away. Serenity scrambled after him.

  “We believe in you!” Patch yelled as she raced toward the shaft.

  Toward her family. Toward her destiny. And the end of the beginning.

  The heat of the sun, the struggle of quickly cutting through the sand, the baking air filling her lungs barely registered. Nothing would be the same after today.

  ***

  Deputy Rodgers threw the smoke grenade. Even on the run, his aim was true enough that it bounced just before the shaft and tumbled over the side, disappearing beneath the desert. Without being sure of the depth—Patch couldn’t remember—he said it might not do much. But they needed the distraction to buy time to descend and get their bearings.

  First, a low rumble. Within a couple footsteps it grew into a thick, dull sound. “What’s that?” Serenity asked between puffs.

  “What?”

  “That sound?”

  “Don’t hear anything,” Deputy Rodgers answered. “Over there.” He pointed to a four-foot-high pile of scrap metal to the side of the shaft. She diverted toward it, sliding to the ground as soon as she was close. Only a few feet away, Serenity heard air escaping. The rumble was there too; louder. Growing.

  Deputy Rodgers didn’t appear bothered. “What is that noise?” she asked, trying to suppress the fear rising in her chest that shortened her breaths.

  “Air.”

  “No,” she said. “That other sound. The rumbling. It’s getting louder.”

  Rodgers’ eyes closed as he shook his head. “I don’t hear anything else, Serenity. Please, we need to be quiet. They could have a trap waiting for us, and I don’t want to plop you or me in the middle.”

  The sound grew.

  Rumbled. Roared.

  At once, she knew. Because she’d heard it before.

  At the Scales with Jerrod.

  Serenity closed her eyes, hoping everyone was ready.

  A bubble of sand, a few feet high, weaved around a huge pile of metal and raced toward the open area next to the shaft, leaving a distinct trail behind it. The Screecher was here.

  When it reached the open area, the bubble became a mountain of exploding sand, raining down for yards all around them. Serenity shielded her eyes. The Screecher loosed a piercing screech.

  Her eardrums ached, numbing all other sound. She pressed her hands against her temples as if that would stop the pain. She wasn’t alone. Deputy Rodgers buried his forehead against the hot sand behind their cover, his hands covering his ears. The war screech filled the desert and then cut off.

  “Oh my God.” Deputy Rodgers’ pained voice broke her revulsion. “What is that thing?”

  Serenity opened her eyes, worried what the quick cessation meant. Instead of shock, what she saw emboldened her.

  A dozen vehicles were racing into the open area along the only path wide enough to accommodate them. These were practical vehicles, Jeeps and dune buggies. All designed for terrain like this. Three of the larger Jeeps slammed into the Screecher, against the part of its body still buried in the sand. The exposed part of the monstrosity, about fifteen feet, fell flat.

  The wind was all that moved. Everyone focused on the felled beast.

  Then, a low thump.

  She looked at the deputy. Just like with the dull roar, he didn’t react.

  Thump.

  Another one. Another non-reaction.

  Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

  Over and over, each time more rapid than the last. It was like having a bass drum in her ears.

  Then the Screecher squirmed, slight at first. Its hazy, nearly opaque silver body waved back and forth. It was trying to gain momentum to pull itself upright again. One Jeep revved its engine and slammed into the creature. The Screecher bellowed and then shot up, pulling more and more of itself from the confines of the sand, an endless deluge of that haze-filled body rising straight into the sky, erect and
flickering. Just when she was convinced it would go on forever, its tail finally appeared.

  “Jesus.” Deputy Rodgers sounded mystified. “Jesus. Mother. And. Mary. Straight out of hell.”

  Even though she’d seen it twice, Serenity had never seen the Screecher’s full body. The Screecher was larger, fuller than she’d imagined; sixty feet long, from head to tail.

  Wrapping its tail around one of the Jeeps, electricity coursed through its body like hundreds of thin bolts of lightning, arcing and zigzagging with no apparent design, parting the watery haze that had filled it. The tires on the Jeep exploded, and the soft-top cover smoked. Horrendous screams came from the men in the vehicle. Then the Screecher shook it, bodies flopping back and forth, side to side, restrained by their seat belts—the first casualties.

  Another Jeep slammed into the Screecher, rocking it until it regained its balance and slammed its featureless head into the hood, crushing it. The men inside jumped out, exposing themselves in the open.

  Serenity’s breath caught. A man from the reservation! The same one who always greeted them each time they went to see George.

  “Move,” a voice yelled from a dune buggy. George! He was here too! Dozens of the youngest, strongest members of the tribe were here! Defending the people of the Tri-Counties, helping her, fighting the Screecher.

  “Breaking their promise.” Serenity gasped.

  The Screecher screamed and in one, fluid movement it dove underneath the sand, sending up a cloud that obscured the sun. A low rumble predicated it coming up on the other side of the crushed Jeep. It wrapped its head around the vehicle. Bolts, bright and solid, arced through its opaque body as it uncoiled to its full height. With the Jeep still firmly in its grasp, the Screecher flung the vehicle at the fleeing fighters. Thousands of pounds of metal, plastic, and fiberglass rained down, crushing one man before bouncing into a large pile of scrap metal serving as a barrier for the people behind it.

  Three dead, already and we’ve done nothing to it; we haven’t hurt it at all.

  There was a tug on her arm. “Serenity.” The deputy watched the hole of the shaft. “We’ve got to go.”