Out for Blood

by Michael P. Spradlin

  “What are you doing?” Calvin asked. He and Riley and Raeburn swung their own hockey sticks back and forth in a mostly futile attempt to keep the flying beasts at bay.

  Emmet thrust the fire extinguisher into Calvin’s hands. “Here,” he said. “Take this and knock the knob off that classroom door. We’re going to get inside the room and get out through a window.”

  Emmet pulled the hose free from its berth in the enclosure. He twisted the valve and heard the hiss of water pressure as the hose immediately filled. He opened the nozzle, spraying water in a wide circle. The Blood Jackets reacted immediately. With shrieks and screeches, they turned and darted away. A few tried to circle back at him, until they encountered the jet of water again and reversed course.

  Emmet kept the water moving back and forth like a protective barrier between them and the creatures.

  “Hurry up, Calvin!” Emmet shouted. “This isn’t going to hold them off forever!”

  Calvin swung the fire extinguisher like a club and connected with the doorknob of the closest classroom. It took him several attempts, but the doorknob finally popped free, and the door swung open.

  “Come on!” Riley shouted.

  The three of them scooted inside the room, and Emmet slowly backed his way toward the door.

  “Get ready!” he shouted. “I’m going to drop the hose and jump inside. Get something to hold the door closed.”

  He backed up closer to the doorway. Water was now covering the floor, and he had to be careful not to slip.

  “Ready?” he shouted again.

  “Ready!” Raeburn said.

  Emmet tossed the hose away and jumped inside the room. He and Riley slammed the door shut and held it closed while Calvin and Raeburn pushed the teacher’s desk across the floor and up against the door. A small vertical pane of safety glass was cut into it, and within seconds it was covered with Blood Jackets still trying to get at them.

  Emmet looked up at the vent on the wall. So far there was nothing there, but instinct told him it would not be long before they found their way through the vents and into this room. These things were everywhere.

  “Let’s not wait around!” he shouted.

  They crossed the room and cranked open a window. Riley and Raeburn went through first, and Emmet and Calvin followed. Landing on the ground, they tried to stand, but found they couldn’t, instead collapsing on the grass in an exhausted heap.

  Within seconds police and firefighters surrounded them, lifting them off the ground and carrying them away from the building. Eventually Emmet was loaded onto a stretcher, and he soon saw his dad’s face peering down at him.

  “Dad! Get Dr. Geaux!” Emmet said.

  “It’s okay, son. You’re okay now,” his dad replied.

  “No! You don’t understand.” Emmet sat up on the gurney and saw Dr. Geaux a few feet away, bent over Calvin.

  “Dr. Geaux! It’s Dr. Catalyst. We saw him! He might still be in the building. He was headed out the back!”

  She stood up and came to his side.

  “Who did you see?” she asked.

  “A guy in a black Windbreaker and black pants. It had to be him. Those things were swarming all over the place. He must have had some way of keeping them from biting him. Blood Jacket spray or something.”

  Dr. Geaux pulled a radio from her belt and gave an order for the police to move to the back of the school and to secure all exits from the building.

  Emmet lay back down on the gurney. The fire alarm was still blaring in the background. Over it all, he could hear the Blood Jackets shrieking inside the school.

  “Dr. Geaux, there’s one more thing,” Emmet said.

  “What is it, Emmet?” she asked.

  “I’m quitting Service Club.”

  OVER ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY PEOPLE HAD SUFFERED bites and stings during the Blood Jacket attack on the band concert. More than three dozen people were hospitalized. One was in critical condition after suffering an allergic reaction to the Blood Jackets’ venom. He’d been stung over fifty times. Needless to say, the school was closed until the problem with the infestation could be resolved.

  “I think I would prefer to be homeschooled now,” Emmet said. “Yep. Definitely homeschooled.”

  He and Calvin, Riley, and Raeburn were at the Florida City Police Department. They’d been treated for bites and scratches, and now all had to join Emmet in getting rabies shots. But in truth, the four of them were relieved. It could have been much worse.

  They were gathered in a conference room, seated at a big table. Emmet stood up and walked to the large mirror on the wall. He cupped his eyes and put his face up against it.

  “What are you doing?” Riley asked.

  “Trying to see through the one-way mirror,” Emmet said.

  “It’s not a one-way mirror,” Raeburn said.

  “How do you know?”

  “Because this isn’t an interrogation room,” she said.

  “And you know that how?” Emmet asked, still trying to see through the mirror.

  “I know stuff,” Raeburn said.

  “They could be watching us, trying to see if we slip up. Don’t have our stories straight,” Emmet said. He stepped back from the mirror. “You’ll never take me alive, coppers!”

  Riley and Raeburn laughed and Calvin rolled his eyes. Emmet couldn’t help it. He was all nervous and jerky, and felt just like he had the first time he and Calvin encountered the Pterogators in the swamp: like he was going to climb right out of his skin. Ever since he’d arrived in Florida it was one scary critter after another. But being closed up in the school, with no easy way to escape from those things, had really set him off.

  The door to the room opened and Dr. Geaux, Emmet’s dad, Stuke’s father, and a younger woman with a laptop in her arms entered the room.

  “Everyone, this is Officer Tracy Mackey,” Dr. Geaux said. “She’s here from Miami PD and she’s going to help us come up with a sketch of the man you saw in the school.”

  Officer Mackey sat down at the table and opened her laptop. She had shoulder-length curly blond hair and was wearing sharp glasses with black frames. Her smile was friendly and infectious and put them all at ease.

  “Okay, Emmet, I understand you were the first one to notice the suspect. What can you tell me about him?” she asked.

  “Uh. Not much. I was busy. Being terrified,” Emmet said.

  Officer Mackey grinned. “I’m sure you were. I can’t imagine. But a lot of times, even in tense and scary situations, we see and remember more than we think. Let’s start with the simple things first. What was he wearing?”

  “He had on a black jacket, like a Windbreaker, and black pants,” Emmet said.

  “How tall was he?” she asked.

  “I don’t … It was a long way down the hall. Maybe six feet tall,” Emmet said.

  “And he wore black shoes,” Riley chimed in.

  “Okay, great! This is all good stuff,” said Officer Mackey. “Now, let’s think about his face, Emmet. I’m going to ask you to do something very difficult.”

  Emmet arched an eyebrow.

  “Don’t worry. I just want you to close your eyes. Can you do that for me?”

  “I like to keep them open when I’m not sleeping,” Emmet insisted. “Every time I turn around something tries to eat me. It’s better if I don’t close my eyes.”

  Officer Mackey laughed, and even Lieutenant Stukaczowski smiled. Ever since his son, Stuke, had been attacked by a Muraecuda, Lieutenant Stukaczowski walked around with a look on his face like he would love to crack apart a bowling ball with his bare hands.

  “I understand, but just work with me for a minute,” she said. “Close your eyes and don’t think about anything but the man at the end of the hallway.”

  Emmet did as she asked. He closed his eyes, and then opened them again.

  “I can’t. All I can see are the bats,” he said.

  “They’re not there now.” Officer Mackey had a very calming voice. �
�They’ve all left the building. It’s just you. You hear something, and turn and look, and there’s a man. You see his clothing, and now you see his face. What shape is his face? Is it round or narrow?”

  “It’s narrow,” Emmet said.

  “Good, now think about the features on the face, his nose and chin. Are they rounded or sharp?”

  “Sharp.”

  “Okay, now his hair. What color is it?”

  “It’s … it’s solid black. No. Not solid black. He has gray in it,” he said.

  “Okay. Can you see his eyes?”

  “No. He’s too far away. Except … wait … they’re dark colored.”

  “What about anything else on his face? Did he have a mustache or a scar?”

  “No mustache and I don’t see a scar.”

  “Okay. This is good, Emmet. Now, how old would you say he is?”

  “Maybe in his fifties. He looks young, but I can tell he isn’t. Does that make sense?”

  “So he has a young face, not a lot of lines and wrinkles?”

  “Yes.”

  “Now can you — ?”

  “The letters,” Emmet said.

  “What letters, Emmet?”

  “On his jacket. When he turned around. They said ‘FBI.’ ”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Positive.” Emmet opened his eyes. “They were big yellow letters that said ‘FBI.’ ”

  “Oh my God,” Lieutenant Stukaczowski mumbled.

  Everyone looked at him.

  “What is it, Tom?” Dr. Geaux asked.

  “Earlier tonight, I was at the main barricade and a guy approached me. He showed FBI ID and was wearing the jacket. Said he was an agent and was on his way back to Miami when he heard the emergency call on the radio. Wanted to come and lend a hand,” he said.

  “It was Dr. Catalyst!” Emmet said.

  “Let’s not jump to any —” Dr. Geaux started to say, but Emmet cut her off.

  “It was him! It had to be.”

  “Why do you think that, son?” his dad asked.

  “Because that hallway was swarming with his stupid Blood Jackets. They were everywhere. But they weren’t attacking him. I’ll bet he has some way of controlling them. Or at least preventing them from biting him. That guy wasn’t scared or anxious. He was calm,” Emmet said.

  “Are you sure?” Dr. Geaux asked.

  “Emmet’s right,” Raeburn said. “Calvin found us the football equipment and even with that, it was all we could do to keep those things from eating us alive. But he didn’t even flinch. And somehow he got through the school and sealed up all the doors. How did he manage that in the middle of that swarm?”

  The adults in the room considered it, and seemed to arrive at a silent consensus that Emmet was probably right.

  “First things first,” Officer Mackey said. “Lieutenant Stukaczowski, if you could take a look at my screen and help me fill in the details. You had the best view of the suspect.”

  Everyone listened raptly as Lieutenant Stukaczowski gave his description of the man. After several minutes, Officer Mackey looked up from her computer and turned it around. The computer software had doctored the image so that it looked almost like a real person.

  “What do you think?” Officer Mackey said.

  “I don’t know,” Emmet said. “It sort of looks like the guy, but he was so far away … but … it’s pretty close.” Riley and Raeburn nodded in agreement.

  “It’s enough for us to get it out to the media,” said Lieutenant Stukaczowski. “Can you email it to me?”

  Officer Mackey nodded and spun the computer around. Her fingers flew over the keys. “I’ve just uploaded it to all the local and federal law-enforcement databases, as well as all the South Florida media outlets.”

  Dr. Geaux sent a text on her phone. “I just authorized an all-points bulletin through the task force. We’re going to get everyone out looking.”

  Emmet felt a giant sense of relief.

  “All right,” Dr. Geaux said, “let’s get you kids home.”

  They all stood up and filed out of the room. Calvin remained behind, still seated and staring down at the table.

  Emmet stopped at the door and looked back at him.

  “Calvin? You okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you coming?”

  Calvin stood up and filed past Emmet into the hallway without another word.

  HE ALMOST DIED RIGHT THERE.

  If he hadn’t looked over his shoulder in time to see the Pterogator gliding down on him, it would have been all over but the funeral. Instead, Dr. Newton dived backward into the ground and the creature overshot him. The Pterogator was surprised by the move, thudding onto the grass and rolling with a crash into the underbrush. It gave its loud, roaring cry, and nearby, two nesting cormorants took to the sky in a rush of wings and squawks.

  Dr. Newton wasted no time. He took off running in the other direction. The full moon allowed him to see the ground before him. He tried to recall everything he’d learned about the Pterogators. They could glide, and could run on land as fast as alligators. But they were more ferocious. This was not a good situation.

  He didn’t need to look back to know the beast was coming after him. It was thundering across the ground, crashing through the underbrush and saw grass. Dr. Newton could hear its ragged breathing close behind him. If he could stay ahead of it, run just fast enough that he didn’t stumble and fall, it might get tired or find something else to eat.

  The Pterogator roared again, and Dr. Newton ran faster. He suddenly emerged from a small shoot of mangrove trees and was happy to find himself on a hard-packed dirt road. Maybe his luck was changing. A road meant civilization of some sort — a house, a ranger station, even a fishing camp. Turning to the southeast, he kept running, staying to the far side of the road, away from the trees. A few yards along and he realized he couldn’t hear the Pterogator behind him. It must have given up the chase.

  He was wrong.

  Ten yards in front of him, the creature burst out of the mangroves and onto the road. Dr. Newton skidded to a halt. The moonlight allowed him to get a good look at the creature. It was terrifying. Its elongated neck was straight up, and it studied him with large, owl-like eyes that shone red.

  There was no choice but for him to run in the other direction. The Pterogator roared again and raced after him. If not for the relatively smooth surface of the road, the beast would have run him down. But his legs were cramping and he was tiring. He needed to get some distance between them. It was run or die.

  Just as he was about to break into a sprint, he realized it was quiet behind him. He was about to risk a glance over his shoulder when something heavy crashed into him, knocking him to the ground. Tumbling onto the hard-packed surface of the road, he came to rest on his back. Sharp claws raked over his shoulder and he screamed in agony. He could feel the hot breath of the creature on his face. He looked up to see the Pterogator studying him with its predatory eyes. From this close, the teeth in its mouth looked like hunting knives.

  Dr. Newton wiggled and twisted, but the creature outweighed him by several hundred pounds. The beast’s clawed forearms were holding his shoulders flat on the ground so that he couldn’t breathe. Its claws pierced his flesh again. Dr. Newtown tried to scream, but with no air in his lungs, he found he couldn’t even do that.

  The Pterogator reared its head back, but before the giant mouth could reach him, Dr. Newton swung his cast-covered arm and connected with the side of the creature’s head. The blow startled it. As the most fearsome predator in the swamp, it was probably used to pursuing its food, but once it had the prey in its grasp it would feed without resistance.

  Dr. Newton swung again and again. The third time, the plaster cast shattered against the creature’s bony head. Momentarily stunned, it rolled to the side, and despite his intense misery, Dr. Newton scrambled to his feet and sprinted down the road. Each step caused searing pain to course through him. Knowing he needed
to remain as quiet as possible, he tried everything he could think of to muffle his groans.

  But the creature had a sharp sense of smell. It would inhale the odor of blood from his injuries and would not stop pursuing him. Eventually he would drop from blood loss, shock, or exhaustion, and the creature could feed on him at will.

  Dr. Newton did not give up. He managed to run a few more minutes with only muffled groans. A quick glance over his shoulder showed nothing. Had he managed to drive it off? Perhaps the blows from his cast had deterred it, and the beast had moved on in search of easier prey.

  Dr. Newton’s joy was short lived. From the woods to his side, he heard the Pterogator lumbering through the trees. He tried peering through but couldn’t get a glimpse of it. In his rapidly weakening state, he couldn’t tell if it was running along the ground or flinging itself from tree to tree. Then the Pterogator gave its awful roar, and things went from incredibly bad to monumentally worse.

  Ahead of him in the woods, he heard the answering cry of another Pterogator.

  Dr. Newton knew from the reports that these hybrid monsters were breeding. It now appeared that the one pursuing him had called to its mate for reinforcements.

  Up ahead, the second Pterogator appeared in the road. It was just as ugly and vicious-looking as the other one, which chose that exact moment to emerge from the trees to his rear. They looked at him, their heads darting to and fro, studying him with demonic eyes.

  Dr. Newton didn’t hesitate. He charged back into the trees. The creatures squawked in surprise and took off after him.

  It was difficult to keep track of them over the sound he made crashing through the trees and underbrush. He darted around a cypress and sprinted ahead when one of the Pterogators lunged out of the darkness and snapped at him. It missed, but only barely. If he didn’t think of something soon, he was done for. For a moment he considered trying to stay completely still. Predators were attracted by sound, motion, and smell.

  Smell.

  They could smell him. If he could somehow counteract their sense of smell, he might have a chance. It was his only hope.