Alien Species Intervention: Books 1-3: An Alien Apocalyptic Saga (Species Intervention #6609)

by J. K. Accinni

  Her breath came in gasps as she jumped into her wagon and took off out of town. Robert is here. What will they do to me? Can they still arrest me? Like Wil? Oh my Lord, what have they done to him? She refused to believe he was dead until she saw for herself. She’d better plan to hide out somewhere first.

  She must get home quickly. Baby waited there. She couldn’t run without him. Frantically, she wondered where they could hide. Nothing came to mind. Pitifully, the tears streamed down her face again; her mind so full of panic over Wil and Baby that her adrenalin almost incapacitated her. She drove the horse faster, bumping dangerously over the rutted road.

  Netty finally made it to the cabin. She planned to pack food and clothes in the wagon, then grab her Winchester and Baby last. She pulled the wagon right up to the stoop. Banging on the door, she screamed for Baby. As she slipped through the door she turned to close it, glancing toward the barn. She almost fainted at the sight of a dozen men streaming out of the barn toward the cabin. Amongst them, she saw none other than Robert, Eli, the sheriff, Mr. Simpson and the other thugs who worked for Robert.

  She quickly locked the door, grabbing her Winchester. Her mind felt pressure, frantic colors swirling wildly in her mind.

  “Sister, trouble comes.”

  “Yes, Baby, we are trapped.”

  “Where is Brother, he will save us?”

  Netty choked back a sob, her trembling hands running spastically through her hair at her temples. “No Baby, we must save ourselves.” Dashing into the bedroom, Netty spotted the window. She grasped at an idea. Instructing Baby to burrow under her clothes in the hope chest, she closed it tight. Shoving Robert’s gold coin into her pocket, she ran to the window and clambered out. She knew they would realize what she’d done, but at least it would decoy them away from Baby. Running toward the woods behind the cabin, she prayed to God to grant her enough strength to elude the men long enough to get safely to her granite rock. The cavern beckoned; a perfect sanctuary. She knew if she carried Baby with her, she ran the risk of slowing herself down, exposing them to capture. Now, if they did catch her, at least Baby would be safe. After waiting them out, sneaking back to the cabin to collect Baby would solve everything for now. They could hide out at the cavern until she came up with a better plan. Actually, maybe hiding there indefinitely might work out. She didn’t eat much anymore and Baby didn’t eat food anyway. Water was a small necessity she would worry about later.

  Netty made it to the woods without being seen. She heard shouts coming from the direction of the cabin. They must have searched her bedroom by now and found the open window. She’d hoped to have a little more time. Plunging through bramble bushes, she felt them tear her skin. By the time she glanced down to her arms, the scratches had disappeared. Wow, do I not need Baby to heal me now? Hope sprang up and lodged firmly in her throat as she ran on.

  Trees whipped past, their swaying branches witness to her stumbling; her frantic wits trying desperately to hold her together. Sounds of shouting filtered through the woods like dappled sunlight through the trees. They sounded as if they might be gaining on her. She tried to pick up her pace.

  Rounding a corner without watching her footing, she tripped on a rock and down she went, losing her grip on her Winchester. Damn. Where is the darn thing? Netty spotted it, victim to her untimely fall, lodged between two rocks. Tugging on it ineffectively, she found her strength deserting her. Precious time lost. Making the decision to leave it behind, she ran on.

  Her pace slowed as she located the pathway that ran along the hillside leading to the rock. She remembered pausing to rest here the night she’d discovered Baby. Stifling a sob, she thought about all the happiness he’d brought to her barren life, and to Wil’s. She pushed all thought of Wil away. She couldn’t afford to deal with her heartbreak now.

  Netty navigated the path until she came to her rock. Finally, she found a safe second to pause, forcing painful gulping sobs down her throat. Reaching into her pocket, she withdrew the gold coin. Bitterly, she thought about the trouble her impulsive decision to steal it had rained down on her. Suddenly, flashing auras with their accompanying pressure assaulted her mind. She felt strangled cries. Baby, oh no.

  “Sister, bad Brother. Bad Brother, bad Brother.”

  Netty’s heart fell. Is Baby warning me or is he in danger himself? She slowly turned. It was Eli. He held her Winchester in his hands. Netty felt frozen to the rock. Only a few steps to freedom and it damnably eluded her.

  “Where ya go’n, sweetie? Ain’t ya happy ta see me?” Leaping forward, he grabbed Netty’s ponytail, painfully yanking her back toward the trail. She stumbled and fell, hearing Eli curse her. Her hand reflexively opened, accidentally releasing the gold coin. She could hear it as it bounced from rock to rock, finally settling out of sight near the cairn marking the entrance to the cavern.

  “Get yer ass movin’ now, Netty gal. He’s not a patient man.”

  Netty saw the glee dancing in Eli’s eyes. She pulled herself to her feet, trying to keep up. She knew her chances of escape were now limited. As they neared the edge of the woods, they were joined by more of Robert’s men. Judging by the shouts and nasty laughter, she knew they were looking for blood. By the time they cleared the woods, she was being dragged on the ground by three men, her tail bumping painfully over the rocks. Hauled upright, she found herself back at the cabin in front of her barn, Baby, thankfully, nowhere in sight. In front of her stood Robert, holding something wrapped in a handkerchief.

  “Well, Netty, it’s been a long time. I hear you have something of mine.” He glanced around to his men, a depraved grin on his spiteful face. “Well now, I just might have something of yours.” He released the handkerchief, allowing it to open before tossing it on the ground. Out rolled a human hand, stiff and gray, clearly severed from a human wrist. Netty could see the telltale signs of iridescent blood soaked into the handkerchief. Soundlessly, she collapsed to the ground, her futile denials confirmed.

  When she came out of her faint, Netty found her hands tied behind her back as she stood on the back of her very own wagon, her horse in his traces, prancing nervously. She felt something heavy around her neck. Looking up, she saw a rope thrown over the cross support over her barn door. The very rope attached to the noose weighing down her neck.

  “Don’t worry about the farm, Netty. I will take good care of it, just the way we took care of your wop drifter.” Stepping closer to the wagon, he gave her a wink. Netty strained, leaned over and spat in his face. Wiping his face with his sleeve, Robert shouted for the sheriff. “Alright, Sheriff, I have determined the honor will be yours.”

  As the sheriff approached, a loud bang came from the stoop of the cabin. It was Eli. He’d one hand wrapped around Baby’s crown of crystal antlers, holding him high in the air. The other held Baby’s kitten by its neck.

  “Look what I found in the bedroom. The weird fucker mus’ be her pet.” Netty’s mind felt a chaotic aura.

  “Sister, bad Brother, all bad Brothers.”

  Netty screamed.

  The last thing she saw as the sheriff slapped her horse with his hat, jerking her in the air to snap her neck, was Eli. He put a bullet into the kitten’s head on the stoop and, tossing Baby to the ground as he jumped, landed on Baby’s head with a crunch, spilling his glorious iridescent blood in the dirt before lifting his boot to her stoop, wiping off the essence of the incredible creature that she and Wil had loved so much.

  *

  Silence descended over the crowd. The men stared at Netty’s limp body as it twisted from the noose, her weight causing the wooden barn support to creak eerily. In the distance, wheels of the wagon rattled mournfully over loose stones as Netty’s horse nervously stamped, unattended.

  “All right, the show’s over. Someone cut her down, for Christ’s sake.” The sheriff grimaced as Netty’s body struck the ground in a heap, her skirt flipping up to reveal a cooling leg.

  Eli sheathed the knife he’d used to cut the rope, bending ov
er to nudge the skirt higher.

  “Anyone want to peek at the goods? I already had my share.” He looked around, sickness drooling from his rheumy eyes.

  Mr. Simpson joined him to stare down at the body. Lifting the skirt with the toe of his boot, he stared. “You better come take a look at this, boss.”

  Robert, the sheriff and the rest of the men gathered around the body. The sheriff slapped Simpson’s hand away as he held up her skirt. “Have some respect, you moron. Has she not suffered enough?” His face registered the disgust and revulsion of their actions. Siding up to him, Robert shot him a deceptively casual glance.

  “Sheriff, anytime working for me gets to be too much of a burden, you just let me know. I got five or six different men that might just kill for your job.” Roberts’s cold eyes and chilling tone spoke volumes. The sheriff’s expression shut like a slammed door. Stepping back, he glad-handed Robert forward.

  “Now, what do we have here, Eli?” Robert bent over. Eli’s face drained of color as he booted the body on to its back.

  “What the fuck?” All heads swiveled together, leaning in to stare as Eli exposed Netty’s golden tail, her fur soaked with urine.

  “Holy Christ!”

  “Devil’s work.”

  “She’s a freak.”

  “She was your wife, Robert, did you not know about this?” His men looked at him with suspicion. Robert looked from face to face seeing derision.

  “Boss, there’s sumin’ fishy about that pet a hers.”

  “Go get it, Eli, and bring it over here.”

  Eli ran to the stoop of the cabin where Baby lay dead in the dirt. Grabbing the carcass by the tail, he returned to the men, tossing it on top of Netty’s body. Baby’s long leather arm landed on the side of Netty’s face as if in a caress. The men were dumbstruck. The tail on the creature matched the tail on the body. Slowly, the men edged back.

  “That is just not normal.” Robert’s face looked as if carved in stone. The rest of the men muttered to themselves, fear-tinged voices threatening to bolt.

  The sheriff stepped up to Robert, placing his hand on his shoulder reassuringly, his voice shaky. “Something happened here, for sure. We will never know what. Let’s just get them buried and get out of here before a neighbor wanders by. We can come back after the sale of the first acreage closes. I will send someone out here to bring the livestock into town. I know a guy down near Lafayette that will take them off your hands.”

  Robert didn’t respond, but continued to stare at the bodies. The sheriff nodded his head, sending Robert’s men scurrying to the barn for picks and shovels. “Make sure you dig away from the house. Go behind the barn. Don’t want anyone seeing a grave being dug.”

  The men returned with their equipment. Stealing furtive looks at Robert’s icy demeanor, they grabbed the two bodies, dragging them through the dirt, Netty’s head with its broken neck bumping forlornly in the dust.

  Locating a likely spot, the men hurriedly dug the grave, then tossed the bodies unceremoniously on top of each other. As they all gathered around for a last look, the sheriff took the time to survey the wide range of emotions displayed at the lip of the grave: fear, disgust, wonderment, greed, and, from Robert, finally hatred.

  “Cover ‘em up, boys.” Robert’s voice grated with harshness and animus. Turning on his heels, he headed to the horses. Shouting back to the men, he instructed, “Simpson, hitch your horse to that wagon and bring it back to town with you.”

  “Yeah, boss.” Turning back to the grave, Simpson spat, phlegm landing on the back of Netty’s now filthy and tangled golden hair. “Okay, let’s finish the job.” Bending to their task, the only sounds heard were the grunts of the men and the relentless drop of soil as it swiftly and efficiently covered all signs of the tragic pair that lay in the cold unyielding ground, one hand from each having landed as if reaching for the other.

  *

  She felt as if she were floating, drifting, the void enfolding her in its oddness, giving her refuge. It was a good feeling; a blessed warmth surrounding her. The silence seemed unfamiliar. She was unsettled as she could not determine if she were sleeping or awake. She paused. How can that be? Assessing her body parts, she realized she couldn’t feel them. Wiggling her fingers didn’t help; she couldn’t feel them, either. She gulped, swallowing. Wait. She couldn’t feel herself swallow. This was a frightening thought, but she didn’t feel frightened. A sense of deliberate calm prevailed in her mind. Wow, she was never this calm. What is going on? Where am I? And why the heck am I so calm?

  She tried to recall her last memory. Something told her not to go there. Alarmed, she pushed through. She wanted to know. But she was clearly being blocked. Am I alone? She absolutely knew she shouldn’t be alone. My Baby, where is my Baby? Her agitation increased, the calming atmosphere losing its effect on her. She started to panic. The more she panicked, the more she started to remember fragments of her former life, flashing back to her in a nebulous gossamer drizzle. Former life?

  Her Baby, her raw nerves shrieked soundlessly. Please, my Baby. Abruptly, she felt an overwhelming rush of gratitude. Gratitude? Holding on to that sensation for comfort, she greedily reached out to grasp Baby’s searching leather hand. She idly wondered why and to whom she should feel this gratitude. She momentously pulled Baby toward her, his golden rainbow eyes all she needed.

  And the final reward. Reward? Where are these thoughts coming from? Oh, praise God! It cannot be. She felt a strong familiar arm wrap itself around her waist. Tears rolled down her face, even though she oddly couldn’t feel them. Her love was here, too. They were together. Everything would be fine. As she reached out in the dark to embrace him, an uncommon glow filled her eyes. Her senses returning, she detected the first scent of sulfur. Then a sound: soft, an omnipotent whisper.

  “Yes, my dear, everything will be fine. But you have much to learn. I have much to teach you. And we must prepare for our guests.”

  Guests? Netty thought frantically, her heart hammering as she tried to see in the dark. Where is the voice coming from?

  “My dear, please do not struggle, there is no need. You are safe now. Your Baby and Wil are by your side. You are all safe. The life you used to know is your past. All that matters now is your unlimited future. With my minion and Wil at your side, you will become the first Elder. A female Elder. My most blessed. My most powerful.”

  “But what of my husband and his men? They will find me.”

  “You have much to understand, my dear. Your enemies are insignificant and unworthy. They will be dealt with. Time is now forever, but is not meant to be wasted. We must be ready. Even though Baby’s mission failed, the results will be the same given more time. If there is to be any saving grace from this colossal failure, we need to begin now.”

  Netty felt her spirit soar. Her body tingled with anticipation and, could it be hope? She felt Wil relax even as she failed to see him. Can he hear the voice?

  “I have great faith in you, Netty. Just as you have always had faith in me.” And on that note, Netty, Baby and Wil’s strange new and heroic life began.

  Chapter 9

  A month passed as Robert Doyle prepared to sell off some of the assets of the farm. He considered leasing the cabin with the barn and bakery as he knew the bakery may be a gold mine to the right person. He found himself begrudgingly admiring the success Netty and her lover had made of the farm. Studying the plans for the bakery, he marveled at the expense they had devoted to its construction. He puzzled over the source of their funding, sorely underestimating the profitability of their backbreaking labors.

  As he sat at his partners desk in his elaborate library, his eyes rested on his antique gold coin collection, reflecting on his frustration over the missing coin. He’d offered a pretty penny to anyone who located it. No luck, and most of the men were reluctant to return to the farm to hunt for it, knowing the bodies rested there. He idly wondered if any of his men had confiscated the coin for themselves.

  No, he
dismissed the thought. Any dealer or purchaser of such a coin would be known to him. Not much occurred in his part of the state without his knowledge and approval.

  Glancing at his gold watch, he noted the time. Pressing a button, he rang for his housekeeper. She appeared quickly.

  “Sit down please, Martha. I want you to call the carriage house. Have Eli bring the sedan to the front door. Tell him I want the boys to follow us in the truck. We have some work to do. I expect to be home shortly before cocktail hour. Miss Kathryn will be joining me this evening and we will take dinner in the solarium. Please have Cook prepare one of her favorite dishes. We will then take coffee and dessert in here. Miss Kathryn’s father will join us after dinner. Please have fresh flowers in both rooms, this is a special occasion. If my plans bear out, you may have a new mistress sometime in the near future. I have had my eye on her for some time, although I have been forced to pretend a platonic interest.” Laughingly, he added, “Well, that will not be necessary any longer, will it?”

  “It sure will be my pleasure, sir.” Martha sat taking notes; her plump, unlined black face impassive. Returning her pencil to the upswept gray knot on her head, she asked, “That be all for the day, sir?”

  Without answering, Robert dismissed her with an irritated wave of his hand. Picking up the telephone, he listened for party voices. He still didn’t understand why he must share his telephone line with the neighbors. It hardly allowed for discretion. Hearing silence, he dialed the number for Sheriff Hudson. His secretary picked up the phone.

  “Put him on.” Robert waited impatiently.

  “What is it, Robert?” Sheriff Hudson’s booming voice filled the line, making Robert hold the telephone away from his ear, wincing.

  “Just a reminder about our little appointment. The boys and I will be leaving in ten minutes. I should make it to the farm in about an hour and a half. I still do not understand why you need me there. The boys are quite capable of cleaning out the store house and dirt cellars on their own.”