“Something isn’t right,” she said.
“Well no shit, nothing’s right.”
“It’s too humid. And the trees look sick.”
Bishop glanced to the tree line and noticed a reddening of the branches and a malnourished aspect to the trunks. “They’re sick.”
Angela reached into the glove box and plucked a Vicodin from the bottle. Bishop winced.
“Your hand still hurting?” he asked.
“Everything hurts.”
Then she reached into a backpack and took the yellow walkie-talkie Colbrick had given them. She gingerly held the device to her mouth and pressed the communicate button. Bishop was blown away with how much she’d changed. Angela peered out the windshield with dirty, narrow eyes, hand bandages curling against the yellow Walkie-talkie, her hair put up in a ponytail. Sure, part of her was afraid, but damn if she also didn’t look like a warrior.
“Colbrick, can you hear me?” she asked into the device. She waited thirty seconds, the dead crackling and offensive frequency sweeps filling the truck.
“Colbrick, this is Angela. Can you hear me?”
Nothing.
“The range is too far,” Bishop said. “Didn’t he say two miles?”
“Yeah.”
“We’re still ten miles out. Give it a few minutes, OK?”
Angela put the radio in the glove box and stiffened her posture. As they drove on, they gained altitude. The once dominant cedars were replaced by spruce and aspen. Meadows began to appear amidst the deep woods—a welcome change from the hemmed-in and gloomy Elmore.
“Where did that come from?” Bishop asked, slowing down and pointing to the western side of the road.
“Oh my God, a motorcycle! Someone else is alive!” Angela kicked her feet and slammed her bandaged hands onto the dashboard. “Pull over!”
“What do you think I’m doing?”
They idled next to the beater motorcycle and stared at it as if they’d never seen such a vehicle. The bike wasn’t in the best of shape, and was propped up by a rusting kickstand. Angela cracked open the door for a better look. A door closed faster than a window in case of attack.
“Anyone there?” she shouted out to the grassy embankment and tree line. “Anyone?”
A breeze answered, tousling her hair.
The truck vibrated, and Bishop wondered if the engine was out of balance. He depressed the gas pedal while in park. The engine was fine.
The truck vibrated again.
Something across the road caught his eye, and he turned to look. Two mature aspen parted like mere weeds, and what he saw he couldn’t explain, for he wasn’t sure he was seeing it. There stood a creature twelve feet high, with the rough, grey skin of a rhinoceros and six bulging legs capped off with discolored toenails. At first, he thought it was an elephant, but there were no tusks or trunk. The triple-pupil eyes boiled with rage. The mouth was an elongated extrusion seven feet long, containing numerous teeth the size of dollar bills. The mouth attached to a wrinkled, baggy face and hung open bizarrely as if unhinged. Two flush nostrils with no visible nose or snout steamed and gushed snot with each tortured breath. The elephantine creature swung its gaping mouth side to side, stomping its feet in place. A rectangular tag flashed on its neck, and Bishop guessed it at eighty beats per minute. It seemed sick or in pain as it thrashed.
Bishop went to shift the truck into gear, and Angela slammed her hand onto his. Apparently, she’d been paying attention to the other embankment and the motorcycle.
“Where are you going?”
“Angela, no! Get off—”
The creature rammed into the truck and the elongated mouth ripped into the back window. Yutu yipped and jumped onto Angela’s lap and then out the opening in the passenger side door. A stench of bile and shit besieged them, and long slobbers of drool coated their gear as the creature’s grotesque tongue curled, unfurled, and groped.
“Jesus! Drive, drive!”
The creature pulled its mouth out of the truck, generated incensed rumblings from deep within its lungs, and slammed into it again, using the side of its head and temporarily knocking the truck up onto two wheels.
“Bishop, Go!”
“I can’t—”
It walloped them again, cratering the driver’s side panels and covering the truck with foul-smelling slobber. Then the creature reared back and led with its mouth through the driver’s side window, crunching through the glass like it were tissue paper. Bishop tried to duck and protect his face, but it was too late. He saw the gunk-encrusted wrinkles on its mouth and its purple gums that were sprinkled with glinting particles of glass. The mouth hit him like a garbage can filled with concrete. He was losing consciousness. Angela’s screams, Yutu’s vicious barking, and the excited, guttural breathing of the creature were dreamlike, awash in trippy reverb.
Where was he? What happened?
Bam!
Was that a shotgun blast? Whose dog is barking? Where am I?
That was a shotgun blast.
Bam!
And another.
His head throbbed. He went to touch it, and felt slickness he was sure was blood. Angela was crying. He wanted to open his eyes, but they fluttered. No energy. The scent of gun smoke stung his nostrils.
Yutu growled.
Bam!
Bam!
Something huge grunted on the road next to him and then thundered off, bellowing. A flood of light inundated his mind and stung his eyes. He looked out the driver’s side door frame and saw the aspens shaking and then looked to his right to see Angela crying. A nasty cut streaked up her arm and her left eyelid was the color of a prune.
“Baby,” she said, reaching for him with open and careful hands, her eyes darting to a spot above his brow. “Don’t move, baby, OK?”
She offered a half-smile, but betrayed the smile with watering eyes. He felt horrible for her as she did her best not to show him how bad his knock was.
Bishop heard movement outside the truck, perhaps the final monster, the one that would end this insanity. They would be shit in the woods, no different than most of the valley’s residents. As the shuffling and limping inched closer, Bishop saw it was a man with a serious-as-hell face.
“Long time no see,” the man said through shattered glass, slime, and moist chunks of creature skin. “I do believe we’ve met.”
Angela sobbed, and Yutu barked from somewhere out of sight.
“Hey,” Bishop said weakly. “I do believe we have.”
Bishop’s eyes fluttered and he faded to black. He welcomed it.
*
When Bishop’s eyes opened again, a familiar skylight loomed overhead, and he felt the supple texture of leather underneath his body. His head hurt so fucking bad, each throb sending white flashes across his visual periphery. Still, he couldn’t figure out where he was.
“Bishop?” Angela asked, her voice shaky.
“That’s me…I think,” he said, grimacing.
Angela wrapped her arms around him, placed her head on his chest, and squeezed. “I’m so glad you’re back,” she said, crying.
“Where am I?”
“You’re at Big J,” she said, wiping at tears and smiling. Her left brow was swollen black.
“Ah…good ole Big J,” he said. “It’s nice to be back.”
“Colbrick kept this place in tip-top shape,” she said.
“Where is he?”
“Kitchen table.”
“How did he get out to the road?”
Angela put a finger to his lips and reached for a water bottle. “Too many questions,” she said. “You need to rest.”
“I’ve had plenty,” he said. Finally, Big J’s living room dialed into focus, and the clarity that had eluded him since the battering creature returned. “How did Colbrick get to the road?”
“He used that old motorcycle,” she said. “We left it on Highway 18 and took the truck back.”
Colbrick walked over to the couch.
“Hey
slick, you seen better days, eh?”
“Just a scratch,” Bishop said, reaching his hand out to Colbrick, who shook it heartily.
“I found that bike behind some plywood in the garage. Had some gas so I decided to do some scouting of my own.”
“What the hell was that thing on the road?” Bishop asked.
“I call ‘em Rammers.”
“Rammers, as in they ram you?”
“Yup.”
“That’s pretty weak, dude.”
“No worse than Frequency Seal,” Colbrick said, chuckling. “I saw it gunning through the meadow yesterday morning. Damn thing shook the ground. I thought a bunch of those monkeys were headed this way, or maybe a pack of seals.”
“How did you find the one on the road?” Bishop asked.
“Just driving along, minding my own P’s and Q’s, taking a look around and it ran across the road in front of me. I parked the bike and headed into the forest on the opposite side of the road.”
“Wait—why did you do that?” Angela asked, her brow furrowing.
“Because when the bastard ran across the road, I saw that it was well aware of me, and that it wasn’t exactly on the up and up.”
“You mean it was playing with you,” Bishop said.
“Yup. I knew if I continued down the road, it would bolt back out and kill me. These things aren’t stupid, folks. I could see the deceit in its eyes.”
“Why didn’t you just turn around?” Angela asked.
“In the time it took to get that bike around, it would have been on me. I was already too close, and on a bike you have no safety structure. So I parked and decided to play its game, and do something it wasn’t expecting. I guess most people just run from it, so I did the opposite.”
“And that’s when we came along,” Bishop said.
“Yup.”
“Thanks for scaring it away,” Angela said.
“Not a thing. I just wish I could have killed the bastard. No shotgun will kill that God damned thing unless it has slugs.”
“We haven’t seen that one before,” Bishop said. “It seems more suited to open country. But I don’t think there’s much of a chance for it to get to the prairie.”
“What are you talking about?” Colbrick asked.
Angela looked to the floor and spoke in a somber tone. “We couldn’t get on the internet, but we found a working television with satellite, Colbrick.”
“Go on.”
“…I don’t want to…”
“Colbrick, we’re quarantined,” Bishop said.
Colbrick frowned and spit hard. “What in God’s name are you talking about?”
“Homeland Security has created a perimeter around the Valley, but there are at least two or three road dams between us and them. No one from Elmore or anywhere in the valley made it there that we know of. I don’t think Homeland Security believes there are any survivors left, but we’re supposed to wait it out until someone comes to rescue us.”
Colbrick walked away and gazed between the window reinforcements, out into the big sky country he’d known all his life. He gripped the stock of the sawed-off enough to whiten his knuckles.
“We figure the government is converging in Billings thanks to its numerous resources and military bases. I also wouldn’t be surprised if they’re telling people near the valley to temporarily relocate there.”
“Billings?” Colbrick asked. “I ain’t going to God damned Billings.”
Bishop chuckled.
Angela shot him a look.
“Military base or not, we put our asses on the line making the trip out there. So, that leaves waiting it out here,” Colbrick said.
“Not exactly,” Bishop said.
Angela let out a deep breath and patted him on the shoulder.
“It seems the outside world only knows about the fliers and doesn’t know anything about the tags,” Bishop said. “They have their heads up their asses trying to figure out what’s going on. Another thing, Colbrick—they’re taking their sweet time about it. Time we don’t have.”
“Before we’re eaten?”
“Before they send a message,” Angela said.
“The white-coated scientists with their billion-dollar labs figured out the fliers are aliens and the source must be near here. Some think an alien civilization sent these animals to see if this is a good place for them to live,” Bishop said. “They don’t know what we know yet. But they must think they have all the time in the world because they can’t see that the tags are flashing faster.”
Yutu pattered into the living room and jumped onto the couch at Bishop’s feet.
“You met Yutu, Colbrick?” Bishop asked.
“You’re not making sense, slick.”
“Yutu, the dog. We found him trapped in a fire in Elmore.”
“Oh yes, the dog. He’s a mighty fine animal.” Colbrick whistled with an authoritarian tone and Yutu sprinted to his side.
“Hey…what the heck?” Angela said.
“Used to train dogs,” Colbrick said. “Old hobby.”
Colbrick found a box of dog bones in the pantry and gave one of them to Yutu. Yutu bounded away with glee, wanting to relish the wonderful treat all by himself.
“I don’t know about any of this shit, but I know I ain’t going to Billings,” Colbrick said. “Also, I got a surprise for you folks.”
Colbrick disappeared down the hallway and they could hear him opening a locked door. When he came back, he was holding a large mason jar. In-between the thick, clear glass quivered a rotten leaf.
“You did not,” Angela said.
“Yup.”
He set the jar down on the coffee table and Bishop grimaced.
“I hate those things,” he said.
“Agree with you there, slick. But I’ve been thinking about the tags, too. See this here tiny tag. It’s really going now. Getting faster every time I look at it. I captured another leaf and the tag went dark when I took it off to look at it better, so I’m keeping this one alive to watch it. I’m thinking it means that something’s going to happen, something I’m not going to like.”
“I noticed that too and came to the same conclusion,” Bishop said. “I think some device or ship or whatever is in the mountains, maybe waiting to be set off when the flashes get to a certain point. But I don’t know how we’d find it.”
“What about your new friend?” Colbrick asked. “I been hunting with dogs my whole life.”
“OK…”
“Give Yutu the scent of the tag and let him lead us to the source.”
Bishop and Angela’s mouths hung agape.
“You folks up for a little trip to the Apex Range?”
Bishop pulled himself up, and Angela flashed him a look of concern, holding her bandaged hands near him in case he fell.
“Slow down, Colbrick, what the heck are you talking about?” she asked. “I’m all for contributing to the cause, but I don’t want to embark on a suicide mission. Do you have any idea how big this mountain range is? How long it would take to find this thing? And all that time we’d be exposing ourselves.”
Bishop leaped up and paced the room, shaking off his headache. Sometimes you just had to get your blood flowing to feel better. “Honey, I love you, but this is the one chance I have to lay my life on the line for something I believe in. Colbrick understands. He’s not a pussy. His father gave his life for this country, and I’m willing to give mine for the Apex Valley and my father.”
Angela watched Bishop pace with that wild look in his eyes and stepped towards him .
“Well, I have a pussy and my pussy is telling me that my husband has gone off the deep end and I need to bring him back.”
“Whoa, you two,” Colbrick said. “Never a good idea to get in the middle of a marital spat, but I need you to calm down and think this through. You’re both right. We can’t wait for Homeland Security but getting killed won’t save the valley either. We need to plan this out.”
Bishop and Angela loo
ked at Colbrick and sat back down. Bishop brought a hand to his bandaged head and groaned. “The fliers,” he said, wincing. “I saw them heading to the southern end of the range, near Elmore. I get the feeling the seed mother will be near there.”
“Good work, slick.” Colbrick turned and spit on the floor. “And not a bad name this time either.”
Angela cracked a smile.
“Thanks,” Bishop said. “I’m not sure which exact peak it was, you know how they’re always obscured by clouds.”
“Yup.”
“We need a topo map,” Bishop said.
“Already done, partner.”
Colbrick went to one of the hallway rooms and came back with two folded maps, one lavender and the other green to distinguish the national forest districts.
“This one here, now this is the northern half of the forest,” Colbrick said, pointing to the green map.
“That’s us,” Angela said.
“Now, this purple one, this is the southern half, near Elmore.”
A wave of uneasiness hit Bishop at the mention of that town. The dead shops and impenetrable cedars flashed in his mind.
“Now, these aren’t the closest type of maps, and I’d like a 1:24,000 level, but they do offer the names of the peaks, lakes, and even show trails. They’re damn well good enough for what we need to do.”
Colbrick spread the maps onto the table before them, and they gazed at the huge swaths of green and the flowing, bending contour lines that rose sharply to patches of brown and grey. “Here’s us,” he said, pointing a finger to a white square hemmed in by a sea of green. “Big J is surrounded by national forest. There are trails leading up into the mountains from this very ranch, mostly horse trails.”
Angela frowned. “If the fliers are coming from the southern range, why would we start at the northern half? Why not just drive towards Elmore and head west into that portion of the range?”
“She’s got a point,” Bishop said.
“Because you run a motor into whatever drainage these things are coming out of, and you may as well dip yourself in barbecue sauce and shout ‘eat me,’” Colbrick said. “They find us by noise, remember? And you want to run a V8 up into their nest? Shit, you two are crazier than I thought.”
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