Out for Blood

by Michael P. Spradlin

  From the air the building looked like a giant letter H. But at the bottom right of the structure were numerous large industrial roof vents. Several of the slats on the vents were rusted through and broken off, leaving an opening sufficient in size for the colony to venture through. The ductwork inside was perfect for nesting and offered protection from the elements and any potential predators.

  The clouds opened, and as the rain fell, hundreds and hundreds of South Florida’s newest invasive species entered Tasker Middle School.

  THE NEXT THING EMMET REMEMBERED WAS brightness. A harsh light hurt his eyes, causing him to squint against the glare. When he was fully aware, he realized there was a man standing over him, shining a penlight in his eyes. Which kind of hurt. He wished the man would stop. His entire body ached. Finally, the light went away, and his father’s face appeared in his field of vision.

  “Hey, pal,” he said. “How you holding up?”

  Emmet groaned. “Like grizzlies have been using me to play badminton.” As Emmet became more aware of his surroundings, he realized he felt a little sluggish. He lifted his left arm and found it was attached to an IV. His skin was covered with bandages.

  When his eyes could focus better, he looked at his dad and saw his face was covered in bites and scratches.

  “What happened? Where’s Apollo?” Emmet asked. He tried sitting up, but dizziness overtook him and he slumped back into the bed.

  “Whoa, fella,” his dad said. “You’re pumped full of painkillers, and as near as the doctors can tell you’ve been stung — repeatedly — by hornets. You’ve got a lot of their venom coursing through your veins right now.”

  “Whaa?” Emmet said. “Hornets? Wasn’t it bats?”

  “It was both,” said a voice from the doorway. Emmet looked over to see Dr. Geaux and Calvin enter the room. “First of all, we just came from the vet hospital. Apollo is fine. He had several bites and stings as well, but he got some antivenom shots and he’s being his usual bouncy self; the entire staff is in love with him. But the vet wants to keep him a couple of days to make sure he’s okay and doesn’t have a reaction.”

  Dr. Geaux moved to Emmet’s bedside, placing her hand on his forehead. She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. Emmet blushed. At least he thought he did. His face was so swollen and sore he couldn’t tell for sure. Calvin came to his bed and gave him a fist bump. For Calvin, this was an expression of deep concern and an indication that he was glad his friend was okay.

  “You were saying something about bats and hornets?” Emmet said. “The details are fuzzy.”

  “Yes. We had animal control go in and get the two remaining in your kitchen. We haven’t had time to do a complete analysis, of course, but this is another hybrid species. They’re most definitely some genus of vampire bat, which are nonnative to South Florida; they mostly come from tropical climates. And they appear to have been cross-replicated with a species of hornet because … they have stingers,” Dr. Geaux said.

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” Dr. Doyle said.

  “Giant teeth on Pterogators and Muraecudas wasn’t enough, now he has to go for fangs and stingers? That’s just great,” Emmet said groggily.

  Dr. Geaux laughed. A desperate, fed-up, I’ve-had-enough-of-this-guy type of laugh. “So it would appear,” she said.

  “And I don’t suppose there’s been any sign of him?” Dr. Doyle asked.

  “No. But we’re getting reports of bat attacks all over the city. It’s daylight now and there’s no current reported activity, so it looks like they’re still nocturnal creatures. But last night the Florida City PD logged over thirty calls. So far only minor injuries and no fatalities. But those things have venom. And if they’re part vampire bat, they probably survive by drinking blood. It’s only going to be a matter of time before something really bad happens. We’re going to have to put out a warning telling people to stay indoors at night until we can get a handle on these things,” Dr. Geaux said.

  “So we’re not going to have the big long discussion over whether or not Dr. Catalyst is behind this?” Emmet said.

  “No,” Dr. Geaux said. “Who else would it be? You’ve been right all along.”

  “Could you say that again?” Emmet croaked. Dr. Geaux and his dad chuckled.

  Emmet felt no satisfaction. After the incident with the Pterogators, Dr. Catalyst was silent for several months, and everyone had assumed he was dead. Then the Muraecudas appeared, and everyone except Emmet thought he had an accomplice or copycat working with him. But Emmet and Calvin confronted him again when he kidnapped Apollo. It was definitely the same guy.

  Emmet was convinced Dr. Catalyst was actually their science teacher, Dr. Newton. But when the cops searched his apartment they found it trashed, and Newton missing. It appeared as if he’d been kidnapped. Now no one knew what to think. Except Emmet. He figured if Dr. Catalyst could fake a death in the Everglades, he could fake a kidnapping. Except for one niggling detail.

  A Pterogator had crunched on Dr. Catalyst’s arm out in the swamp. Both Emmet and Calvin had witnessed it. And when Calvin confronted him in the aquarium, his hand was all mangled up from tendon and nerve damage. Dr. Newton’s arm was in a cast, but his hand didn’t have any damage. Still, Emmet was sure he was faking it all somehow.

  “I don’t get it,” Calvin piped up.

  “Get what?” Dr. Geaux asked.

  “What are these creatures for? I mean, the Pterogators were developed to combat snakes in the Glades, and the Muraecudas were created to go after lionfish. His whole crusade is about stopping invasive species. But why would he create these … bat-a …” Calvin struggled to find a term to describe the new hybrids.

  “Bat-a-hornets?” Emmet offered. “And I’d say the invasive species they’re combatting is pretty easy to figure out.”

  “What is it?” Calvin asked.

  “It’s us,” Emmet said.

  WHEN EMMET NEXT WOKE UP, HIS DAD AND CALVIN were still there, and this time Riley, Stuke, and Raeburn were in the room, too. Emmet’s face still felt like someone had pounded on it with a croquet mallet, but he managed to wave weakly at his friends from the hospital bed.

  “Wow,” Stuke said. “Animals really don’t like you, do they?”

  “Stuke!” Riley and Raeburn said at the same time.

  “What? I just meant all kinds of critters tend to show up whenever Emmet is around. Flying gators, super-eels, and now … whatever these are,” he said.

  Emmet coughed, trying not to laugh, and it made his face hurt.

  “While you guys catch up, I’m going to stretch my legs and get some coffee,” Dr. Doyle said. He left the room and it was just the five of them. Emmet’s friends clustered around his bed.

  “Stuke’s sort of right. Wherever I go, monsters seem to follow,” Emmet said.

  “Well, geez,” Raeburn said. “We’re glad you’re okay. It does look really painful, though. I feel sorry for you and Stuke.”

  A long red scar laddered with stitches ran up along Stuke’s leg, where a Muraecuda had taken a big chunk out of it earlier in the year. It was all discolored and looked kind of like spoiled hamburger. Stuke was going to need a lot of plastic surgery to repair the damage. Which only made Emmet want to stake Dr. Catalyst to an anthill that much more. Stuke was still using a walker to get around while he rebuilt strength in his leg.

  “What were … are those things?” Riley asked.

  “Calvin’s mom is having them checked out at the lab. But right now we’re going with ‘Blood Jacket.’ Calvin invented it. I’m very proud of him,” Emmet said. Calvin hadn’t invented it at all, but Emmet liked to give Calvin credit for stuff when Riley was around.

  Riley laughed and Calvin blushed.

  “ ‘Blood Jacket’?” Raeburn said.

  “Yeah, apparently Dr. Crazylyst mixed a vampire bat with some kind of hornet or yellow jacket. It can bite, suck your blood, and sting. And I’m probably going to turn into a vampire at any minute … so, you know … watch o
ut for that,” Emmet said.

  “That’s a myth,” Raeburn said. “Vampire bats do drink blood, but usually from livestock. They almost never feed from humans. Unless you were passed out or something.”

  “Do you know everything?” Emmet asked, smiling.

  “Pretty much,” she answered.

  “Whatever they are, there were a lot of them, and they were mean. And aggressive. And mean.”

  “You said that already,” Stuke said.

  “Just wanted to get my point across,” Emmet said.

  “So Dr. Catalyst went from big and scary to small and terrifying. Why do you suppose that is?” Riley asked.

  “Emmet has a theory,” Calvin said. “I was saying how I didn’t see what invasive species he created the Blood Jackets to combat. And Emmet said, ‘us.’ ”

  “I did? Oh, yeah, I did, didn’t I?” Emmet said.

  “What do you mean, ‘us’?” Stuke said. His face turned a little white and he stood up straighter.

  “I don’t think he’s so hard to figure out,” Emmet said. “He created Pterogators to eat snakes and Muraecudas to clear out the lionfish. But there’s no invasive species for bats or hornets to go after. At least not an obvious one.”

  “Are you saying those things are going to feed on people?” Stuke asked, now clearly animated.

  “Stuke … easy,” Calvin said.

  “Dr. Geaux thinks they’re nocturnal. So if everyone stays inside at night, they’ll be okay. But not everyone can do that. Think of people who have to work after dark. They have jobs and houses, and they can’t just pick up and move. And these things are really aggressive. Eventually they’re going to get really hungry and —”

  “Emmet,” Raeburn said, nodding her head in Stuke’s direction. He was standing ramrod straight, the blood drained from his face, gripping his walker so tightly he might squeeze it in two if he wasn’t careful.

  “What do you think will happen?” Riley asked. “Will there be some kind of curfew or something?”

  “I expect there will be,” Calvin said. “My mom is meeting with the task force now.”

  “I wish there was something we could do,” Raeburn said.

  “There is,” Emmet said. All four of them looked at him.

  “When I get out of here, we’re going to figure out where Dr. Catalyst is hiding. And then we’re going to stop him.”

  THE FOLLOWING EVENING, WHILE EMMET SLEPT IN THE hospital, Dr. Catalyst sent out his first press release. He was proud of the name: “Blood Jackets.” It was meant to instill fear in those who heard it. While the news stations broadcast his message for the very first time, the creatures took to the night sky.

  They hunted.

  The two Dr. Geaux’s team had captured alive inside Emmet’s kitchen were being studied to determine their exact genetic makeup. But it would take time for blood and tissue samples to be examined, and an exact identification would not soon be forthcoming.

  Dr. Catalyst’s press release saved them the time. He bragged at length about the accomplishment of creating a new creature from two entirely unrelated species: the vampire bat and the baldfaced hornet. In fact, he talked so much about his fantastic accomplishment that the press release was fifteen pages long. Needless to say, he was severely edited by most news outlets.

  Dr. Catalyst cruised through the streets of Florida City in a late-model pickup truck. It was trash night in this part of town, and to disguise his intentions, he stopped and loaded a few old chairs and lamps and other assorted junk from the piles of stuff everyone was leaving at the curb into the bed of the vehicle. In reality, he was looking for signs of where his creations were nesting. He planned to release more colonies soon, and hoped to get a sense of the territory each group had carved out for itself. Doing so would allow him to release the next groups strategically, so they didn’t encroach on one another’s hunting grounds.

  He had placed small transmitters on several of the members of each group. Truthfully, he was unsure how well they would work. Vampire bats were small, weighing only a few ounces, so his tracers had to be small and light enough to allow the creatures to fly. As such, they had limited power and range.

  Dr. Catalyst drove slowly through the side streets and residential neighborhoods, periodically checking his tablet for any signals. But so far, nothing. Perhaps they had flown farther than he anticipated, maybe even deep within the Everglades. If so, they would be far out of range. He drove on in ever-widening circles.

  While Dr. Catalyst searched, the Blood Jackets flew all around the darkened Florida City sky. It was still overcast and spitting rain, but the desire to feed drove them out in nearly any kind of weather. It wasn’t long before the colony found its first victims.

  On a small lake, well-known to bass fishermen in the area, two men sat in a boat, casting for fish.

  A sudden screeching cry cut through the night. Both men looked up at the sound, but in the darkness and overcast sky, neither could see what had raised such a ruckus….

  Until they were pummeled relentlessly by hundreds of flying, stinging, biting, killing machines.

  Luckily for one man, he had just stood up in the boat to cast his line. The force of the collision drove him over the side of the boat and into the water. His companion was not so lucky.

  The flock battered the second fisherman to the deck of the boat. He screamed as fangs and stingers pierced his skin. The monstrous creatures bit into his arms in a frenzy, each puncture delivering a shock of burning, intense pain. He furiously waved his arms above his head, shouting desperately for help.

  Suddenly, his friend’s arm reached over the side of the boat from the water, jerking him into the lake with a loud splash.

  The creatures swarmed at the two men’s faces. “Hold your breath!” screamed the first man. They both took in air and ducked beneath the water. From below the surface, the cloud of creatures looked like a living shadow, desperately grasping and trying to reach them. As seconds bled into minutes, their lungs screaming in protest, the dark mass slowly began to dissipate.

  Both men surfaced a few moments later. The fisherman who had been attacked was now barely conscious, eyes fluttering and lips a troubling blue color. With great effort, his friend finally succeeded in lifting him into the boat, then scrabbled in himself and started the engine. His friend began to moan and shake on the deck of the boat, as if he was having a seizure. He opened the throttle all the way.

  He raced the boat toward shore, just hoping he could get to a hospital in time.

  Meanwhile, the colony had circled back toward the city, and was now directly over a subdivision full of homes. Below them, a teenage boy pulled a trash can along his driveway toward the curb.

  The creatures descended on him from the darkened sky with frightening speed. The animals were now in a frenzy of maddening hunger, desperate to feed, and plowed into him with claws, teeth, and stingers. The boy screamed, covering his head with his arms, though the bats bit into them just as readily.

  He grabbed the trash-can lid and swung it back and forth, knocking some of the creatures away. Somehow he managed to stay on his feet and sprinted back up the driveway toward his house, trailing a cloud of wings and teeth behind him.

  The boy barely made it to the garage ahead of the ravenous creatures. He pounded on the button for the garage-door opener, trying to will it to close faster and screaming desperately for help. Most of the Blood Jackets flew out the door before it could close, but several remained after their escape was sealed off.

  Hearing the commotion, the boy’s parents opened the door to the house just in time to see their son slump to the ground, his arms bleeding and swollen, and the dozen or so creatures still in the garage diving and attacking him repeatedly.

  His father charged in and grabbed a nearby baseball bat, while his mother struggled to pull the wounded boy inside the house.

  Covering the two, his father swung the baseball bat at the creatures until both were safely in the door, then backed in and slam
med it shut with an agonizing cry that mixed fear and gratitude that they were all still alive.

  It was a long wait for the ambulance.

  On the colony flew, through the night, their shrieks becoming louder as their hunger grew. They dived and darted through the sky, descending on whatever unlucky citizens of Florida City happened to be outside.

  The other colonies had caused havoc as well. That night, over one hundred people would be taken to hospital emergency rooms, poisoned and bleeding.

  But the colony flew south now. Their hunger, augmented by the aggressive genetic code of the hornet, demanded they be fed. So far, everything they’d hunted had managed to escape before they could take in enough blood to satisfy their need.

  Until at last they rose up over a small, open tract of land. Below them, the colony spotted a field full of cattle. Diving as one, they dropped from the sky onto the unsuspecting creatures.

  And they fed.

  THE SUNLIGHT FROM THE HIGH WINDOWS CRAWLED slowly across the floor, flooding Dr. Newton’s eyes. He groaned, waking slowly, the effects of the drugs used to keep him semiconscious slowing his reflexes. He was in a prison cell that had been constructed inside a large industrial warehouse, or a factory of some kind. The cell held a cot, a toilet, and a box of food. Just outside the bars sat a large watercooler, its spigot accessible inside the cell. A tin cup fastened to a chain hung from the spigot.

  He knew that Dr. Catalyst had kept Dr. Doyle drugged the same way, through his water supply, back when he’d kidnapped the man.

  At first Dr. Newton had tried to go without the water, hoping he’d be found or could think of a way to escape. But in Florida, thirst overcomes one quickly, and he was soon forced to drink the tainted water. The drugs made it hard to think and plot an escape.

  He had no idea how long he’d been here, or if anyone was even looking for him. In fact, he only assumed it was Dr. Catalyst who had captured him — that he’d seen the plan was going sour and surprised him. Whoever captured him had managed to take him by surprise. But this wasn’t the first time he’d ever been taken prisoner.