“Keep running!” Bishop shouted.
They reached the end of the meadow and began pulling uphill into the forest. Now only two secapods groped after them, the bird right behind. They chugged up the hill, not needing to turn around when they heard the disgusting splatter of another plunged eye and secapod shrieking. The bird cried out.
“I think it’s really fucking hungry,” Bishop said.
“I hope it’s not hungry for us,” Angela said, her forehead peppered with sweat as they slogged uphill.
They stole a glance as the final secapod gained, but the bird was right on top of it, staring at it with a cross-eyed gaze, aiming its beak.
Thwap!
Eeeek Eeeek!
Cheeekooo Cheeekooo!
“Was that the last one?” Angela asked, sucking air and scanning the meadow.
“Yes, yes!” Bishop said.
The flesh tube retreated into the bird’s colorful plumage, and the bird paused along the road. So did Bishop and Angela; out of breath and doubled over. The bird gazed at them with an intelligent curiosity.
“Is it going to try and eat us?” Angela asked.
“I don’t think so.”
The bird lingered, ruffling its feathers and tilting its head.
“I think you were right,” Bishop said, grinning at Angela. “It’s friendly.”
Angela looked at the bird and smiled. Bishop was proud of her. She’d made the right decision back when Colbrick had other plans for it.
The bird let out another warbled call and ran clumsily back to tree line. They wondered if it was going to fall, but it never did. It disappeared into a patch of northern beech fern and aspen, crashing through the brush as it worked upslope. They turned in the direction they came from and saw the secapods scattered along the road, curled up in puddles of goop. Bishop examined the closest secapod and kicked it over. It made an unpleasant sloshing and sure enough there was a sharp, squid-like beak under the midsection. Inside the open beak was a small, coarse tongue. Around the beak were wart growths that released thin streams of white slime from their moist tips. Bishop guessed this was some sort of reproduction mechanism. The thought sent his heart crashing out of rhythm, and he coughed while pounding his chest to snap it back.
“One of those again, huh?” Angela asked. She walked up to him and rubbed his back with her free hand.
“I think they’re reproducing,” Bishop said. “That means—”
“No, they were reproducing,” she said. “But not anymore thanks to the bird.”
A stench of rotten calamari filled their noses.
Bishop reached down to a secapod and removed the blinking tag. The material was smooth in his hand, like a river-worn stone. How it had attached itself to the secapod, he had no idea. He counted the pulses. Forty-two beats per minute.
“What is it?” Angela asked, examining the device and then their surroundings.
Bishop couldn’t help but think of Colbrick. Someone is tracking them, he’d said.
The device clicked in his hand and the red light went dark. He thought about putting it in his backpack, but it stank. So instead, he dropped the tag on the gravel road.
“Unreal,” Angela said, shaking her head. “I don’t even have the strength to ask ‘why’ anymore.”
“There’s plenty more where that came from,” Bishop said.
The sun hit them harder, their skin soaking in the vitamin D.
Far away, they heard the awkward bird stumbling through the understory as it headed southwest.
“Where do you think it’s going?” Angela asked.
“I don’t know,” Bishop said. “But I hope that wherever it goes, it’s OK.”
“Me too.”
*
Every step, every breath on the narrow, wooded road was a potential disaster. Trees that had once elicited a sense of comfort were now potential ambush locations. Death pervaded everything. They could taste it on their tongues, a metallic toxin.
Bishop unstrapped his pack and took two water bottles he’d filled at Big J. They drank along a sandy embankment in the shade of an aspen. No doubt the tree roots were also trying to drink quietly below them.
Bishop handed Angela a yellow walkie-talkie and thumbed the power switch.
“Where did you get this?” she asked.
“From the nut with the sawed-off.”
Angela swept the channels and pressed the transmit button.
“Hello? Is there anybody out there?”
Her voice was met with crackling static, although the changes in cadence were frenetic and agitated—more so than normal.
“Colbrick said he tried this morning. No luck. He’s on channel nine if you dare.”
Angela thumbed to channel nine. “You there, Colbrick?” she asked into the device, releasing the transmit button and listening to the static.
“Yup. I read you loud and clear,” Colbrick said. “What’s going on out there?”
“Oh, Macy’s is having an awesome sale, and the chicken francese at Maggiano’s was divine.”
“Smartass,” Colbrick said.
“We’re two miles out on the ranch road. There’s creature activity. Things I’ve never seen before and that weird bird.”
“The one we saw coming down the mountain to Big J?”
“Yes.”
“What were the others?”
“Hairy spiders with a big eye in the center. Bishop calls them secapods.”
“Yup, yup. I seen those out on Highway 18. Ran one over.”
“They’re horrible,” Angela said. “We’re going further up the road. The good news is we haven’t seen any fliers, or the monkeys Bishop told me about. We’ll contact you soon.”
“Good,” Colbrick said. “Over and out.”
“Over and out, I think…”
They strapped on their packs and headed down the road. Soon, rising temperatures forced them into the shaded embankment. Even animals native to the Apex Mountains sought relief on such warm days—the moose wallowing in bogs and flooded vegetation, the grizzly bears playing in remnant snowfields or lounging in creeks.
In the distance, far down the road, Bishop thought he saw a glint of metal, but he wasn’t sure if it was a heat mirage.
“Hold up,” he said, raising a pair of binoculars to his eyes. He aimed towards the glint, and the optics revealed the back end of a Chevy Suburban.
“What do you see?” Angela asked.
“A gas guzzler,” Bishop said.
“Funny.”
“It’s an SUV,” he said.
“You had me at gas guzzler,” she said.
They trotted towards the vehicle, powered by hopeful eagerness, but never let their guard down. Distractions could increase the odds of being nailed by a new arrival. What they found near the road dam had confirmed their suspicions.
Thirty feet out, they approached with extreme caution, guns drawn. The passenger side door was wide open, the paint scratched as if living things had once clung to it. Two bodies slumped in the front seats, the sexes not readily identifiable. The faces were deformed and gouged, the skulls punctured. The necks and arms displayed numerous bites, and flaps of torn flesh revealed white flashes of bone contrasting with red tendon and muscle.
A nostril-offending stench permeated the truck perimeter.
“Jesus,” Angela said, coughing.
“I don’t know about Jesus,” Bishop said, “but the keys are in the ignition.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Oh you better believe it,” Bishop said. “Let’s move these bodies.”
“I was afraid you’d say that,” Angela said.
“Better yet, I’ll move the bodies. You get my back.”
“Can do.”
Bishop set his pack and shotgun down and grabbed a body by the shirt collar, dragging it into the woods. He tried not to breathe, but the nauseating odor filled his nose and lungs. Halfway through dragging the second body, he vomited onto the road.
�
�You OK?” Angela asked.
“Yeah, no worries.”
Bishop regained his composure, stretched his shirt over his mouth, and dragged the last body into a patch of honeysuckle. After all, these might be Big J residents, and the least he could do was not let them rot in the sun for the entire world to see.
When he finished, Bishop wiped his hand on his pants and headed back to the truck. Angela was guarding the vehicle with the intimidating Colt Python revolver.
He did a double take. They had changed, and not just After School Special change, but a complete transition. Angela looked like she was part of a special ops task force. Here they were, exploring a country road, carrying firearms and securing a motor vehicle. The creatures weren’t the only dangerous things in these woods now.
Bishop turned the key and the truck roared to life. The gas gage indicated they had half a tank as the windshield wipers fluttered. Bishop guessed the wipers were triggered when the driver tried to fight off the secapods. Maybe the secapods were even waiting when they got into the truck. Bishop checked the backseats and cargo bay again. Nothing.
“Where to?” he asked. “There’s beautiful Florida with its many beaches, or the tranquil hill country of Appalachia.”
“How about just down the road?” Angela said.
“What about Colbrick?” Bishop asked, fiddling with the radio buttons but getting nothing.
“Let’s go a few miles up the road,” she said. “But go at a speed where something can’t latch onto us without getting hurt real bad.”
Bishop stomped the pedal and they flew down the road, dust billowing out behind them, deep forest thinning into another haystack meadow. They crossed over a tumbling creek that flowed through a metal culvert and then raced downhill towards Highway 18. Soon, the ranch road widened like a river mouth as it met the highway. Several colored mailboxes in various states of disrepair decorated the left side.
Bishop tried his cell phone. Nothing. Angela worked one of the walkie-talkies, turning it off when the unit emitted uncomfortable, descending and ascending frequency sweeps. The haunting cadence of the radio lingered in the afternoon stillness.
“Something’s not right,” Bishop said. “It shouldn’t be making noises like that.”
Angela examined the road, north to south.
“The highway looks clear.”
Bishop raised the binoculars and glassed both directions. To the north, he saw something that tweaked the hairs on his arms and neck. While the view appeared normal to the naked eye, the binoculars revealed haze, and Bishop couldn’t help but shudder when he saw gnarled, toppled vegetation protruding through it.
“I think that’s a new road dam,” Bishop said, the binoculars shaking in his hands.
“What? Where?” Angela asked.
Bishop handed her the binoculars and guided her to the spot.
“See the haze and jumble trees?”
“Yes…”
“Not good,” Bishop said. “Our route to the north is blocked.”
“So we go south,” Angela said.
“South is where the first road dam was.”
“Maybe it’s gone,” Angela said. She pulled away the binoculars and looked at him with pleading, desperate eyes. “Bishop, how big are these things, and what the hell built them?”
“I already told you,” he said. “But you didn’t believe me.”
“I thought you were joking.”
She glassed back down the road, looking for a way out. The sky above the road dam swirled with silt. Her upper lip quivered, a tiny drop of sweat forming above it.
“We have no choice but to go south.”
“What if it’s worse?” Bishop asked. “What if Big J is the safest place?”
“Do you want to find other people?” she asked.
“Are there other people?” Bishop asked.
“There has to be. We aren’t the only survivors.”
“How do we know?”
“We know by leaving Big J.”
“Colbrick will never go for that,” Bishop said.
“Then Colbrick can stay behind.”
“He’s done a lot for us,” Bishop said. “Plus, he’s good with a gun.”
“He’ll understand,” she said, flashing sympathy eyes at Bishop. “We can’t stay at Big J forever, even if that means leaving Colbrick.”
Bishop studied the horizon and sighed. “There’s one thing I didn’t tell you,” he said. “When I went looking for you, two Air Force jets flew over. I don’t know what it means, but I could see the pilot scanning the ground.”
“See, there are people out there, maybe people who know what’s going on,” Angela said, willing him with her eyes, no longer pleading, but demanding. “We need to go south. Tomorrow.”
A sense of dread overcame Bishop, that virus-like seizure of body and mind. Not even Angela’s beautiful eyes could dispel the feeling that they should stay on the mountain.
“We should head back and tell Colbrick,” he said.
The truck left a plume of dust as it drew into the foothills of the Apex Mountains.
*
When they pulled into the dirt driveway, Colbrick opened the front door, grinning.
“Welcome back, slicks,” he said. “And it seems you two found a nice little present out on the road. Fill me in on the rest.”
Bishop got out and examined the truck alongside Colbrick, who nodded with approval.
“I hate to interrupt Truck Time with Colbrick,” Bishop said, “but there’s another dam north on the highway.”
Colbrick’s grin morphed into a frown. “God damned things.”
“We’re going south,” Angela blurted out. ”The first dam may be gone.”
“What are you on about?” Colbrick asked.
“Are you in, Colbrick?” she asked.
“South is where I came from. I ain’t going back that way. I saw more things back there than up here. Something about the lower elevation makes ‘em thicker.”
“We can’t go north, obviously,” Angela said.
“Well I ain’t going nowhere,” Colbrick said.
“OK. Bishop and I are going to take the truck we found and head south.”
“You’re going to leave me here without wheels?”
“What do you need them for? You think Big J is the safest place, so why would you leave?”
“Fine by me. You two go on ahead. Ole’ Colbrick will do just fine.”
“Colbrick—”
“—Nah. Don’t patronize me, slick. You two go on ahead. There’s lots more food and the water works fine.”
Colbrick grumbled and entered the lodge.
“I knew that wouldn’t go well,” Bishop said. “Don’t you feel bad leaving him here?”
“Of course I do. But he has a choice and he made it. He’s more than welcome to come with us, but he doesn’t want to. What am I supposed to say?”
“Goodbye, I guess,” Bishop said.
*
Angela and Bishop packed what they needed, raiding the closets and the pantry. They took one of Colbrick’s backpacks and a duffel bag they found, cramming them with essentials. There was little talk.
A creeping dread overcame Bishop, and he couldn’t help but wonder if they were doing the right thing. To the north was Spargus—where they had originally tried to reach when Angela wasn’t doing so well. Spargus was a decent-sized town of fifteen thousand. Thirty miles to the south was Elmore, with a population of one thousand in the winter and five thousand during tourist season depending on the economy. There wasn’t much in Elmore save for a small downtown district and second homes scattered about the woods. In Elmore, they would still be in the shadow of the Apex Mountains, which ran north to south for one hundred and fifty miles.
Soon, the backpack and duffel bulged, and they could fit no more. Angela filled empty bottles with tap water, including two old milk jugs. Colbrick even agreed to let them have one of the water filters.
Colbrick watched them pack, an
d each step they made towards completion caused him to blink.
“When are you two slicks leaving?” he asked.
“Tomorrow,” Angela said, securing the zipper on the duffel. “You know, it’s not too late for you to come with.”
“Nah. I told you, Big J is the best place to be.”
Bishop had had enough. He stood from the packing and got in Colbrick’s face. “Come on, man. Just fucking come with us already. What are you going to do here by yourself? We stand a better chance of surviving together.” Bishop felt his eyes watering. He kicked the duffel bag as hard as he could, and it lurched across the living room.
“I got water and I got food,” Colbrick said. “What else do we need? Plus, we’ve only had two visits by them things.”
“Sure, if you count that flying army as one thing,” Angela said. “And whatever those things are, they know we’re here. They might come back.”
“Ah let ‘em,” Colbrick said, turning his back.
“We don’t know shit,” Bishop said.
“That’s why we’re leaving,” Angela said.
“Curiosity killed the cat,” Colbrick mumbled.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You just used that old cliché, didn’t you?” Angela asked
“Yup.”
“That’s encouraging, Mr. Doom and Gloom.”
“Look, sweetheart, I’m not sure we’re doing the right thing,” Bishop said, his voice shaking.
“The problem here is that nobody knows what the right thing is,” Angela said.
Deep down, Bishop knew she was right. No one knew anything. It was awful, but not as awful as dying by the beaks and claws of the new arrivals.
“Let’s just go to Elmore and see what we can find,” she said. “There’s no finality in any of this. If it’s bad, we can always come back.”
“Fine,” Bishop said. “But at the first sign of trouble, we get our asses back here.”
“I’m OK with that.”
“Then it’s a deal?”
“Promise.”
*
Bishop met her eyes and Angela understood he was placing an enormous amount of trust on her with bigger stakes than they’d ever seen. Not only was he putting his life in her hands, but Colbrick’s too.
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