“Hey, Jose, come on in.” Peter stepped back from the doorway, admitting him into a two-story foyer with twin walls flanked by giant fiberglass Siamese cats, backs arched and faux-painted so artistically they looked ready to pounce. Peter looked like he had just rolled out of bed, his sandy-brown hair plastered in three different directions. Removing his frameless eyeglasses he stood, cleaning them on his shirt, his owl-like eyes unblinking, as Jose made himself comfortable on the baby-blue Natuzzi leather sofa in Peter’s minimalist living room.
“I would like to get to Short Hills as soon as possible. Can you drop me at the Sarasota airport? I’ll be ready to leave late tomorrow afternoon.”
“Sure, buddy, just let me know what time, unless you want me to make your flight reservation for you?”
“No, I just need to talk to Scotty first. I’ll catch up with you later, thanks.” Leaving Peter’s house, he headed to the docks to inform Captain Cobby.
Chapter 28
Scotty spread out the newspapers that Jose had left on the kitchen table, noting with a laugh the story of the manatee. He looked up on hearing the French door to the terrace open with Echo hanging on to the doorknob for dear life as it swung into the kitchen. She hung off the floor, her tiny leather hands wrapped around the knob while her scrawny feet dangled in the air. Barney looked up from the terrace where he was playing tag with the rest of the posse. In a jiffy, Barney scooted under Echo, enabling her to drop down on his back, then she slipped down to the floor and ran over to Scotty.
“I would have opened the door for you, girl.”
“Yes, thank you, Brother Scotty, but I wanted to do it myself.”
Scotty shook his head, turning back to the newspaper. Leafing through, he slowly searched the pages for a lead for their next rescue. Their missions made his life more meaningful. Creatures never turned on him, or called him names, or tormented him. They enchanted him, becoming his friends. Very often, they needed protection. Now, with Echo’s prompting, he had found a way to give his life a purpose: hermit by day, hero by night.
Stopping to read a story about recently discovered brutalized dog carcasses which had led authorities to suspect the whereabouts of a sophisticated dog fighting ring, he noticed Echo on high alert, her golden eyes locked on him like a drunk walking out of unsuccessful rehab and spotting an unattended liquor store. How did she know that he had found a story that interested him? Her aura filled his mind.
“I think we will be busy tonight, Brother Scotty.”
“Oh, you do? It says here the cops don’t know where the gang is warehousing the dogs. So how do you think we can help?”
“Brother Scotty, can I tell you a secret?”
Scotty nodded, intensely interested.
“I know where they are.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You can’t.”
“I can.”
“Son of a gun.”
“Son of a gum?”
“No. Gun.”
“You have no gun?”
“No, Echo, I said son—never mind.”
“Are you okay, Brother Scotty?”
Shaking his head with amusement, Scotty realized Echo could frustrate the heck out of him. But—time to get their fly on. “I’m fine, little dude. Midnight then, and you’re sure where to go?”
Rainbows flashed their aura as Echo ran out to the terrace with Barney, trailing tentacles of light. “Trust me, my Brother.”
*
At half past midnight, they were on University Boulevard, heading inland. They had passed over the Sarasota border to Bradenton five minutes ago, and Scotty had no idea where they were now. This move was making him nervous. Abby and Jose would kill him if they knew he had gone off the island. Clouds covered the sky: no stars, no moon. The further east they drove, the more the traffic thinned.
“You sure about this, Echo?”
“Yes, Brother, the Womb is never wrong.”
Oh yeah, the great mysterious Womb. Scotty decided to let it pass and contemplated the plan. Echo claimed she knew where the dogs were being housed. Once they located the spot, they planned to reconnoiter, then heal any dogs that needed medical care. They aimed to tip off the cops about the location, letting the experts take it from there.
The newspaper said tourists had stumbled over the dumpsite. Over two hundred dogs, in various stages of decay, had been discarded. All of the fighters’ skulls had been bashed in by baseball bats and something heavier. It had only taken one blow with the heavy weapon, multiples with the bat. The small dogs ranged from six pounds to fifteen. They were training bait; ripped to shreds. The authorities reluctantly admitted many of the bait dogs had been reported stolen over the last two years.
Scotty figured the live dogs couldn’t be far away from the dumpsite. An hour later, they turned off the main road onto a gravel road which led to an empty field. Scotty hadn’t seen a house in about twenty minutes.
“Stop here, Brother.” The aura swirled in his mind as they got out of the Jeep with a flashlight. Covering the lens, he turned it on and kneeled down, examining the trampled grass and abundance of tire tracks. He surveyed the field, locating an opening at the far end. As they crossed the field, the dark silence penetrated, setting off his chattering nerves and fluttering heart as he tried to remember what he knew about Florida snakes and their hunting habits. He picked up Echo, depositing her on his shoulder as he stepped into the woods on the far side of the field. He could clearly make out a well-traveled path that led deeper into the woods.
“You sure we’re in the right spot, girl?”
“Yes, my Brother.” They walked another twenty minutes before they heard the sounds. Barking dogs. They crept through the woods, trying to be silent while sweat rolled down Scotty’s face, attracting bugs that deviled him unmercifully.
Suddenly, they found themselves on the edge of an open clearing. Creeping closer, they could see the shed that housed the dogs; a spotlight fastened to a tree lit up the tableau focused around a bench underneath. To their consternation, a cluster of men milled around the bench. As they watched, one of the men dragged a bloody pit bull from the shed, the dog clearly on his last legs. In one practiced motion, the dog was lifted onto the bench while another man swung a giant sledgehammer over his head and down on the dying pit bull’s head with a sickening crunch. Rivulets of blood spattered the jeans of the jostling men. The dog was slung into a waiting wheelbarrow filled with other dead dogs. They heard a guttural cry from the wheel barrel, the victim not yet dead.
Echo’s golden aura darkened, grinding with tumult, as Scotty’s stomach turned with revulsion. Tears flowed from his eyes as he berated himself for not arriving sooner. They froze at the sound of a round being chambered into a shotgun from behind them.
“Anything I can do to help ya, boy?” Scotty found himself looking down the barrel of a rifle held by one of the fattest black men he’d ever seen.
“Brother Scotty, this is not a good human.”
“You’re probably right, Echo.”
“What’d you say, boy? Get your ass up and start walkin’. Yo, Red, got some company.” The man with the rifle lifted his foot, giving Scotty a rough shove. As he fell to his knees, Echo scrambled around to face the man, her stance ready to fight. Unexpectedly, the obese man’s hand shot out, grabbing Echo by her antlers, upending her. He threw her over his back and booted Scotty over to the gathered men where he heard the sound of other weapons being cocked.
“Well, looky—”
“Hey—”
“—just a kid—”
“Quiet.” A black man, about thirty years old—kind of hard to tell with the glare of the spotlight—with dyed red hair stepped forward. He set the sledgehammer down on the ground. Silence settled on the group as Red stepped forward, flexing his rippling muscles. An atmosphere of barely controlled violence clung to him like stink on a skunk. In the background, the soft whining and whimpers from the shed signaled the dogs’ sensitivity to the charg
ed atmosphere around the killing bench.
“What the hell you got there, Ton?”
“Don’t rightly know.” Ton slapped Echo down on the bench, her golden fur soaking up the blood from the dog they had just butchered. Red looked over to Scotty, eyeing him up and down.
“Well, if you don’t look like a pretty boy. I think we might have some plans for you. Keys?” He stuck his hand out to Scotty. Scotty looked at Red’s hand, struggling to control his adrenaline and interpret the question.
“Car keys, hand them over.”
Scotty quickly pulled his keys from his pocket. Red snatched them up, signaling to his men. Scotty felt a punch to his kidneys, the man swearing and holding his hand.
“What the fuc—” Scotty felt his shirt being ripped from his back; his tail unfurled and his wings shook out.
“Holy Mother, bring him to the bench.” The men hung back, whispers floating all around him. Red looked from Scotty to Echo.
“What do we have here, boy? Kid, you gonna answer me?” Scotty’s knees shook. He needed to sit before he collapsed. He peeked at Echo from the corner of his eye. She just lay there in the dog blood, one of the men holding on to her antlers, the baseball bat in his hand.
“Boss, how ‘bout we use the animal for bait? Why waste ‘em?”
“Hold on, Trolley. I need some info first. Anybody know you’re out here, kid?”
“No.” Too late, Scotty realized he should probably have lied.
“What’s with the wings and tail? You some kind a freak?”
Scotty said nothing.
“Trolley, why don’t you give his pet there a taste a that bat?”
Before Scotty could say a word, the bat came down across Echo’s round abdomen, splitting it open, spattering the bench with her golden blood.
“Nooo.” Scotty broke away, running to Echo. His tail rose high in the air, extruding its healing membrane. “You stupid fools; you don’t know what you’ve done!” Pressure and the smell of sulfur accompanied Scotty’s tail as it healed Echo, knitting her torn flesh and splintered bones together.
The ground began to tremble. The men stood frozen, unable to process what was happening before their eyes. Scotty scooped up a dazed Echo, the ground now rumbling and heaving. He ran to the shed, hunkering down on the ground as the earth near the bench split open, leaving a perfectly round hole from which a thick snake-like monstrosity emerged, shooting up into the night to hang threateningly over the men who cringed like cowards against the wheelbarrow containing the tragic evidence of their greed and brutality.
The monstrosity from the hole undulated and hung poised in the air as if playing with the men, gently swaying as it considered its first victim. Everything happened in a split second. The head of the snake-like thing split open, extruding a thick pulsating membrane, similar to the one that resided in Scotty and Echo’s tail. It sprayed the men with a stream of black goop, then dashed into the shed as the goop ate away at the men. Scotty got a big whiff of sulfur from the shed as the membranous snake emerged. It hung in the air, as if debating what to do with them. Slowly, it lowered until it fluttered massively in front of Scotty’s face. It moved imperceptibly as if it could smell him. Scotty felt chilled in the humid stinking air, afraid to breathe. It suddenly dipped down, wrapping itself tightly around Echo, drawing her up in the air away from Scotty.
“No. You can’t have her. Please.” Scotty stood, reaching high into the air. “Please, please, don’t take her.” Tears dropped from his eyes, desperation clear in his cracking voice. The undulating membrane paused, let Echo drop to Scotty’s begging arms and vanished, withdrawing inside the hole, the ground collapsing behind it, shattered dogs and all.
“Echo, Echo, come on, girl, wake up.” Scotty held her close, tears dropping down on her face. He felt the aura before her eyes opened. His tears increased. “I love you, girl, don’t you dare leave me.”
“I would never leave you, Brother.” Echo’s face looked up at his, her expression solemn and earnest. “We are married. You accepted the diamonds. I will make sure we are always together.”
Scotty hugged her, feeling her tiny body shudder in his arms. “We’d better get out of here, pronto.” They cautiously peered into the shed, seeing rows and rows of healthy gleaming dogs, mostly pit bulls with a few toy size dogs, set to be used as bait. The cages were covered in dried and fresh blood.
“They’re all healed already. From the Womb—it came to save us. It must have known about the evil humans and knew we would need help.”
“That was the Womb?”
“Not exactly, merely a manifestation of an arm of the Womb. It came to help us from the Hive.”
“The hive in Sussex? You must be kidding.”
“No, Brother Scotty. I do not know of kidding. I will be happy to have you instruct me on kidding so we can do it together. Now we must go and alert the authorities before more evil men come.”
“My keys, we have to get the keys for the truck.” They rushed out to the disaster site, leaving the barking dogs behind them.
Six skeletons lay on the ground in disarray, the bones dry and dissected. The wheelbarrow containing the murdered dogs was turned over on its side, the carcasses gone. Scotty moved frantically through the bones, kicking them with his feet as he searched for his keys. Sweating, he looked at Echo, seeing her bend over in the dirt, then rose with his keys in her hand.
“Good girl. Let’s go.” Grabbing his ruined shirt, Scotty picked her up, balanced her on his hip and ran for the woods. The sounds of barking dogs faded as they arrived at the clearing, then sprinted across the field to the Jeep. Clambering in, they backed out to race home, stopping briefly at a convenience store so Scotty could give the location to the attendant, instructing him to call the cops. Running out the door, Scotty ran back down the road to where he had left Echo with the Jeep and hurried home.
Sneaking carefully into the house, they raced up to Scotty’s bedroom, hoping to avoid waking anyone. It was a comfort to find Barney silently waiting behind the bedroom door, just as they left him, anxiety plain to see in his eyes.
As they all settled down in bed, Scotty sent his mind out to reach Echo. “We did good, girl. How did the Womb find us there?”
“The Womb knows all. As long as we are on earth it can find us. It can reach out as far as it needs.”
“The thing, was that the Womb, that monster? Explain it to me.”
“No, Brother. It was just an extension of the Womb; a Krayven. The Womb is what you call the Father. You know of it, but not all.” Scotty buried himself in the bedcovers, trying to find a comfortable spot for his wings as exhaustion begged for sleep.
“Someday, will you please tell me what is going on, Echo . . .?” He yawned, his voice trailing off, deeply asleep as Echo answered Scotty’s already slumbering brain.
“Why, we are here to exterminate Homo sapiens, of course.” Echo rolled over, slipped her arm around Barney and easily fell asleep.
THE END
ALIEN SPECIES INTERVENTION
BOOK 3
ARMAGEDDON COMETH
J.K. Accinni
Chapter 1
2056 AD
The pounding on Scotty’s door came late in the morning.
“Scotty, get out here right now. Scotty!”
“Alright, alright.” Going to the door, he found Abby and Jose glaring at him.
“What the hell did you do?” Jose stood with his hands on his hips, rocking back on his heels, his face purple. Abby’s hands held him back, but she didn’t look much happier.
“What’s the fuss? Hey, can you let the dogs out? I’ll be down in a few minutes.” He rubbed his eyes, half asleep.
“I’m not kidding, Scotty. You’ve got five minutes.” They turned on their heels, chasing the dogs down the staircase.
Scotty hurried down the stairs, rubbing his sleepy eyes and yawning. Stealing a quick peek out the terrace doors, he could feel the day was a roaster in the making. He glanced around for Echo,
seeing Abby and Jose at the kitchen table, scouring the newspaper. Jose picked up the front page, smacking it down in Scotty’s direction with such force it fell to the floor. Picking it up, he scanned the headline.
Oh, boy. How in the world did it hit the paper so fast? They must have bumped another story. Scanning the facts, the paper reported the dogs they saved had been taken to the local shelter. Dognapping victims were being advised to stop by to examine the dogs. Human bones taken to coroner; weapons in abandoned vehicles; fighting apparatus; unexplained crime scene; copious amounts of animal blood; authorities stumped etc., etc. . .
Yeah, Scotty thought as he put the paper down. They know all the facts except who did it and why. Not surprised, he felt no guilt. No way could either he or Echo have allowed the dogfighting to continue. It was a way of life with those ignorant hillbilly assholes. They didn’t change. No second chances for them. They hadn’t given the dogs any second chances. No, all they’d received was skulls bashed in with a baseball bat or sledge hammer, or being chewed to death as prey for the fighting dogs.
Tears came to his eyes as he thought about the innocence of the tragic pets stolen from their suburban lawns and loving homes, with no understanding of why they had been torn away. The kind of man who could do this to an animal was on par with a pedophile. They both preyed on the innocent for their own gratification and disposed of the evidence through merciless torture and murder. They were both predators, their predilection hardwired into their brains. The only difference was that pedophiles knew what they did was wrong. The other bastards thought they had a God-given right. Well, where the hell was God when the agony and suffering went down? The scum in the woods sure wouldn’t be touching another helpless dog again and he was not sorry.
Alien Species Intervention: Books 1-3: An Alien Apocalyptic Saga (Species Intervention #6609) Page 37