by Gina Ranalli
When they reached the roof, they shoved their way forward through the crowd of doctors, nurses and orderlies to peer over the edge. Five stories below a male body lay with its feet tangled in the shrubs that hugged the side of the building, while his head and shoulders had struck the sidewalk a few feet out.
“Isn’t that Officer Clark?” Swanson asked.
“What’s left of him,” Hogan replied, grimacing. The cop’s head had burst like an over-ripe pumpkin, spewing its contents several feet in all directions. Around them, members of the crowd gasped and whispered while down below two people, presumably doctors, ran to the body and then stopped short, realizing the officer was dead and nothing could be done for him.
The agents turned away, having seen enough.
“Suicide,” Swanson said. “This nightmare just keeps getting worse.”
Now, even more people were on the roof, including some curious patients who were clearly mobile enough to get around on their own.
“This place is a madhouse,” Hogan said. “Why are all these people milling around? Isn’t anyone in charge?”
“It’s something new for them,” she said. “Even the people in charge aren’t prepared for this kind of thing. They’re just as shocked and dazed as everyone else.” She looked around. There must have been a dozen people on the roof by now. “Small town, you know?”
“Being out here isn’t a good idea.”
The change in his voice caused her to look at him, then follow his gaze with her own. To the east, the moon, still full and bright, was on the rise.
“This all has something to do with that, doesn’t it?” she asked. “The supermoon?”
“Your guess is as good as mine, but I’d probably put my money on it. Moths are attracted to light and, according to Quirk anyway, use the moon as some kind of guide.”
She vaguely remembered Quirk talking about something like that on the ride into Lockwood, but hadn’t been listening as well as she should have been. She regretted that now.
As they stared at the great, glowing orb, an unmistakable shape passed before it, far off and silent, but definitely close enough to be concerned about.
Hogan turned to face the crowd behind them. “Everyone back inside. Quickly!”
“And keep your voices down,” Swanson added.
Most of the roof dwellers eyed the agents with either confusion or suspicion. Very few of them obeyed.
“We’re federal agents,” Hogan said, flashing his badge. “Now move!”
Some of the people muttered to each other, but more of them made for the door leading back into the building.
The male nurse they’d seen a few minutes before approached the agents. “Those things flying around killing people?” he said. “Word has it they’re moth people or something. Is that true?”
“Who told you that?” Swanson asked, unable to keep the irritation out of her voice.
“This is a small town,” the nurse replied. “There’s no such thing as secrets here.”
She scowled, but decided against denying anything. “Can we help you in some way?”
“I think I might be able to help you, actually. I mean, maybe. I don’t know.”
Neither agent was in the mood for chatting and Hogan walked away from the conversation in order to hustle more people off the roof and to safety.
With a sigh, Swanson said, “What is it you have in mind, Mister . . .”
“Waters. Lee Waters.”
“Mr. Waters.”
“If these things are really some kind of moth, then they’re also some kind of caterpillar, right?”
She looked away before giving a slight, noncommittal nod.
“I grew up on an apple farm,” the nurse went on. “Pretty big one. Big enough so that my dad had a crop duster. He didn’t fly it himself, but he had a guy who did. I was thinking maybe an insecticide is what’s needed here now. I mean, I don’t know, since they’re not, like, regular caterpillars, but still, maybe . . .”
Eyes wide, Swanson touched the nurse’s shoulder, thanked him and excused herself to join Hogan on the other side of the roof. He was no longer politely asking people to leave, but threatening them with arrest when she pulled him aside. When she told him what the nurse had suggested, her voice sounded unlike it had up to this point, even to her own ears. She sounded hopeful.
“That’s a good idea, right?” she said. “We should be fired for not thinking of it sooner.”
“Well, it might work for the ones still in cocoons, but the others . . .” He clearly wasn’t sure of his idea, but she didn’t care at this point. Any idea was better than no idea at all.
“It won’t hurt to run it by Druhan,” she said. “Besides burning this town to the ground, it could be the best chance these people have. It won’t be quite nipping it in the bud, but it’s probably as close as we’re gonna get.”
Hogan nodded. “I’ll call him. See how fast we can get a duster in here.”
“We should talk to Quirk, too. Maybe she’ll have a suggestion for a specific kind of insecticide.”
He had already pulled out his phone. “Let’s get Druhan first. I’ll put him on speaker.”
Once they had Druhan on the line, he first commended his agents for their quick thinking and then, unexpectedly told them another case had come up in North Carolina.
“I’m pulling you two out of Lockwood,” he said. “The field agents can take it from here.”
“What kind of case?” Hogan asked.
“A big one. Probably your biggest yet. I’m sending a military chopper for you. It’ll pick you up in the high school’s football field at nineteen hundred hours. Don’t be late.”
“But—”
“Again, good work, agents. I guarantee this thing in North Carolina will be a game changer for you both.”
With that, the assistant director hung up, leaving them puzzled. Swanson looked at her watch and saw they didn’t have much time to get to the football field. She quickly dialed Quirk, while Hogan looked around the roof for stragglers.
“Bad news,” she said, snapping her phone closed and moving closer to Hogan. “According to Quirk, a regular insecticide could potentially do more harm than good and—”
Someone screamed and the agents whirled to see a man in a hospital johnny up on the ledge of the building, the gown flapping as he faced the moon, his back to the agents.
The woman who’d screamed was running towards him, telling him to get down.
“Is that . . . ?” Swanson began.
“Daniel Helpen,” Hogan finished and started to sprint towards the man on the ledge.
Helpen raised his hands high and gleefully shouted at the moon. “I’m coming home, Bruiser!”
He leapt from the ledge and sank out of sight. A second later, a loud, thick thud rose up to the roof and both agents skidded to a halt before reaching the edge of the building.
Silence fell among the few people who remained on the roof, the color draining from each and every face.
Chapter 36
Casper and Collie were a mere mile from the hospital when they came upon a traffic accident blocking the road. An SUV had plowed head on into a Volkswagen bus, leaving them both demolished and burning, the bus on its side, a man’s body hanging out the driver’s side window, his face mangled beyond the point of recognition.
The smell of burning flesh hung heavy in the air, cloying and repulsive.
“I may never eat meat again,” Casper said as Collie applied the brakes.
Collie ignored her. “We can’t get around this,” he said. “Both embankments are too steep.”
“Think anyone could be alive in there?” She gestured to the wreckage before them.
“Not a chance.”
He threw the cruiser into reverse and backed away. There was a turnaround about a quarter of a mile back and he drove as quickly as he dared.
“I was wondering where they were,” Casper said, her voice low.
Collie glanced forward and
saw what she meant.
Four moth creatures darted through the air above the wrecked vehicles, almost as though they were playing chicken with the flames.
“Let’s hope the fire keeps them occupied enough to not want to bother with us,” he said and craned his neck to watch the road behind them once more.
In the backseat, the kid emitted a groan and cradled what was left of his injured hand to his chest.
“I wonder if cedar would work against these things,” Casper said. It was meant to be a thought but it came out aloud.
“Huh?”
“Hm? Oh. When I was growing up my mom had a cedar hope chest she’d store cotton blankets and clothing in. She said the cedar protected the items from moths. I guess they don’t like the smell or something.”
“Hmm. There’s probably plenty of cedar trees in these woods. I never gave it much thought.”
“Oh, there is. But I don’t really know how they could help us now. I guess maybe in the future we could all build our houses out of cedar.” She laughed bitterly. “In the future. That’s assuming we even have one.”
The statement made Collie think of his wife, home alone, maybe even unaware of what was going on in the town beyond a simple power outage. He hoped she was ignorant of the circumstances, but in truth, he doubted it. The fact she hadn’t called him in quite some time now made him worry, but for the moment, he had to shove that worry away, resolving to get home to her just as soon as he dropped this kid off. That promise he made to himself made him feel slightly better and more determined than ever to get this task done. And once this whole thing was over, he’d talk to Sheila about moving, maybe even to a city, regular crime be damned.
An explosion rocked the night and he faced forward again, seeing the vehicles burn with even more vigor now. Either one or both of the gas tanks had ignited and the flames licked skyward, catching two of the moth creatures on fire. They fluttered madly, ungracefully, burning wings whipping frantically back and forth until they crashed into one another and spiraled down until they hit the ground and lay thrashing and twitching, clearly dying.
Collie pressed harder on the gas pedal until the burning wreck shrank to a pinpoint of light. They reached the turnaround and were off to find an alternate route to the hospital.
“We’re gonna have to take the long way around,” he said. “But first things first.” He stopped the car and put it in park.
“What are you doing?”
After popping the trunk, he said, “Grabbing the shotgun. Wait here.”
“Where else would I go?” Casper muttered as she leaned forward against the dashboard in order to watch the sky above the car.
Collie had heard her, but it didn’t matter. He eased the door open and stepped outside, nervously glancing around before hurrying to the back to retrieve the pump-action shotgun. Less than thirty seconds later, he was back in the car and handing the weapon to Casper. He closed his door as quietly as possible and then the car was moving again.
“You think this is going to help?” Casper asked, nodding towards the shotgun.
“I don’t know. Maybe not, but it’ll at least put a bigger hole in one of those things if it comes to it.”
“We should have thought to get it out at the field.”
He nodded but remained silent. She had basically read his mind, but still, he knew that even if they had retrieved the weapon, it would have done no good in saving that girl. There had simply been too many of the creatures; taking out one or two of them would have been a waste of ammo, more than likely, and would’ve slowed down their own retreat to boot.
“Or at that elderly couple’s house,” she added.
Collie sighed. “We should have thought of a lot of things, Jill. But none of us were trained on how to behave during a mothman attack.”
His words came out sounding harsher than he’d intended, and he was about to apologize when the radio crackled to life yet again.
“Sheriff!” Burke barked, sounding on the verge of hysteria. “Sheriff, come back!”
Casper snatched up the receiver. “Go.”
“Luke’s dead, you guys! He’s dead!”
Frowning, he said, “What? What happened?”
“He committed suicide.” Burke sounded like he was crying now. “Jumped off the roof of the hospital. What’s going on out there?”
The two cops looked at each other as they listened to the big guy back at the station break into sobs.
Collie, distressed by the news, almost drove past the turn off that would take them further into the boonies, but would eventually lead them back to town and the hospital. He had to sharply spin the car to the right in order to make it, slamming Casper into her door.
She cursed and dropped the radio handset while still holding fast to the shotgun.
They’d entered a little-used road called Dogwood Lane that led them into the forest. Some of Lockwood’s wealthier residents had houses along this little stretch of solitude, pushed far back behind electronic gates, most of them barely visible from the road.
From the radio, Burke’s voice still squawked now and then, giving them random information they could do nothing about, all of it bad.
Collie crept the car along, not daring to turn on the headlights, knowing the creatures would be drawn to their position by the sound of the engine alone never mind giving them a beacon to focus on.
As they rounded a bend in the road, however, they saw orange light flickering between the trees on the right side of the road, moving in and out behind thick trunks.
“What’s that?” Casper asked.
Peering around her, Collie said, “Looks like someone in there is carrying a—”
“Look out!”
Collie hit the brakes just as a figure stepped into the road in front of the car.
The man must have been hiding behind a tree, the way he just seemed to magically appear in front of them. The bigger mystery was how they didn’t see the firelight from the torch he carried. It blazed bright and strong, yellow-orange flames illuminating the area around him. The man ran up to the driver’s side of the car.
“Oh, Sheriff,” the middle-aged pudgy man cried through the window glass. “Thank God you’re here! There are . . . things . . . in these woods. You have to help us!”
Between clenched teeth, Collie hissed, “Bloody fool!” He rolled down his window a crack and told the man, “Get back inside your house. They’re attracted to the light. Put that torch out!”
“They burn!” the man gleefully exclaimed, his wet eyes dancing with the fire’s reflection. “Fire is the only defense! They fear it!”
“Get back in your house,” Collie barked. “This is an emergency. We don’t—”
The man interrupted him, braying with sudden laughter. “An emergency? Sheriff, this is the end. We have to burn the demons before they take over the whole world. We have to hunt them and let Satan know his spawn are useless against the power of the spirit!”
Collie said nothing for a moment, shocked silent. On Casper’s side of the road, the light they’d first seen emerged from the woods. It was another man with a burning torch, this one tall and lanky, and a good deal older than the first man. The second man tapped on Casper’s window and asked, “Do you have a flamethrower in there?”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Casper muttered. “These people have lost it.”
“Get back to your houses now,” Collie shouted, running out of patience. “And put those things out before you burn down the entire forest!”
The chubby man cackled. “It won’t be long now, Sheriff! Satan has played his hand and it’s our move until the Good Lord—”
“I’m not going to tell you again!” Collie shouted. “Unless you want a free ride to the station, get back to your house immediately.”
He couldn’t believe he was resorting to threatening this man with arrest, but it was what he knew. Obviously, he had no intention of arresting anyone, but he almost wished he could. It would bring some s
ense of normalcy back into his life, however briefly.
In the back seat, the kid groaned again, a sound that reminded him of the urgency of the situation.
“Steven,” Casper started.
“I know!” he told her. To the men outside the car, he pointed a stern finger and said, “Back inside. Now!”
His warning was the last thing the chubby man ever heard as one of the creatures broke free from the shadows of the boughs above, its wings spread wide as it glided down, one talon glinting in the firelight as it extended from the end of the stick arm and cleanly sliced off the top of the man’s head. Blood and brain matter splashed the window as the body slid to the ground and out of sight.
Both Collie and Casper stared, jaws agape. Collie turned in his seat and blood covered the passenger side window as well. The creatures had taken the other man, slashing his torso nearly in half. The torches fell uselessly to the ground and the officers watched both attacking moth creatures with a combination of terror and wonder as the things shrank back from the flames, then crept forward towards them again, the way a startled dog will cautiously dare another sniff at whatever had scared it.
Instinct kicked into gear and Collie reached for the shotgun in Casper’s hand. “Give it here!”
“No!” She yanked the weapon out of his reach. “There are more of them in the trees. We have to get out of here.”
“Give it!”
“You can’t help those men now. Just drive!”
Their shouting attracted the attention of the creatures on the ground, who turned their orange gazes upon the car.
More shadows unfolded from the darkness, silent and quick, and fell all around the vehicle, landing gracefully into crouching positions until dozens of burning eyes were trained on the two of them inside.
“They’re everywhere,” Casper whispered, gripping her weapon tighter. “We can’t beat this.”
Collie stomped the gas pedal to the floor and plowed into the creatures in front of them. Several flew up onto the hood with the force of the impact, cracking the windshield in a couple places before bouncing off the car and rolling to the ground.