by Doug Goodman
She would’ve liked to see him try.
The acrid sting of burning air made breathing hurt. It was a dry pain that seemed to have dug in to the back of her chest, and she couldn’t get rid of it.
In the darkness behind her, the Wolf sprung to life. Its feet began their click-clacking, and the beast turned in the needles. Then it decided on a direction based on the new algorithm. Rawls breathed a sigh of relief when the Wolf led them away from the main trail and down the older, heart-dotted trail.
Angie and Murder followed behind.
Chapter Ten
The Wolf led them down the mountainside fast. Angie felt the wind shift on them and worried. Wind can play tricks with scent, whether it was a dog or a robot following it.
She guessed they had descended nearly 2000 feet since coming over the pass earlier that evening, though it felt like days had gone by. Even a person like her who had worked for years in the outdoors and hunted victims through many passes was feeling the wear and tear in her legs.
When the machine stopped to check direction, Angie removed her pack.
“Hey, maybe we could strap your pack to the Wolf. He comes with straps.” She didn’t disagree, so Rawls strapped her pack to the top of the Wolf. “I would have told you earlier, but you know, you looked like you wanted to carry it.”
Angie nodded. She took a deep breath and coughed. The smoke was clamping down on them like an anodized aluminum lid. It was deceptive because it was so hard to see in the night, but you could taste it, smell it, even feel it. It was like somebody had turned the heating fan on full blast and directed it at them.
Across from her she could see the other side of the mountain rising away from the cut. Between the mountains, embers and ash were swirling in the currents. She thought of wind currents while she watched the embers dance in the air. The Wolf stopped again to check direction, then began to cycle through additional programs before finally deciding to head back up the mountain. Angie wished it could work faster. They were getting closer. She could feel it. But so was the fire.
They ascended another three hundred feet, taking them around underbrush that Murder would have gladly plowed through. Angie did not know how high up they were, but after a lifetime in the mountains, she assumed somewhere between seven and eight thousand feet. Mostly the area was populated with thick-bodied pinyon and ponderosa.
Then the Wolf stopped in mid-stride and collapsed, drawing its body into its legs almost like a dying spider.
Rawls punched a few different times into his tablet. Nothing worked. He opened a panel on the robot and ran through a few scenarios.
“I don’t understand,” Rawls said. “Batteries are still good, metrics are still solid. It should be working.”
The screen on the Wolf blipped dead. Then it rebooted. Finally, the screen came back up. She recognized the balding head of Director Summers. Chin tucked, lips tight, and shoulders hunched, he had the look of an MMA fighter waiting for the bell to ring.
“Get your asses back to the ambulances, and maybe you both won’t be fired immediately.”
Angie was surprised to see her director on the screen and not Dave McAuliffe. That didn’t stop her from telling him what was what.
“But Sarah Erikson is still out there,” Angie said.
“I don’t care if Sarah Erikson and her whole damn family are out there. The fire turned toward you. This is over.”
“We can find her.”
Director Summers exhaled, then pinched his nose. “Look, I didn’t want to say this, but the little girl’s body has been recovered. It was found outside of the convenience store while you were searching for tracks. I’m sorry.”
Something wasn’t right. Angie remembered back to her father watching the boy with the horse. She read the tension in the director’s face as easily as she heard the words coming out of his mouth. She sighed, making a big show out of it. “Okay. Should we leave the Wolf here or take it back with us?”
“Take it back,” he growled. “And hurry. The firefighters are waiting on you to evacuate.”
Once the feed ended, Angie turned back to the trail. “Let’s go find the girl.”
“But he said they found her.”
“He’s lying. I could read it in him as easily as I can read Murder when he knows he’s done something wrong. Sarah Erikson is still out there, and I aim to find her one way or another.”
Rawls sat in silence for a moment, taking in what she had said. Then he looked at the Wolf. “Okay. Just let this thing reboot, and I’ll be right behind you. First, though, I think I’m gonna turn off its GPS tracker.”
“You’re not so bad, Rawls.”
“And when you’re not Mount Judgemental, you’re pretty cool, too.”
“I guess I deserved that.”
“You did,” Rawls said while he rebooted the Wolf with the tablet.
Before Angie could figure out what she wanted to say next, Rawls said it for her. “You apologize for being an asshole, and I’m sorry if I was harsh.” He nodded and smiled. “Now let’s go find this girl.”
Angie followed after Rawls and his robot. The Wolf led them continuously upward for another ten minutes. They came to a bald spot on the mountainside full of large boulders and small pinyon.
“Hey, that’s her,” Angie said.
Rawls followed Angie’s gaze along the mountain on the far side of the draw. At first he didn’t see her. The bride stood behind a thick-trunked ponderosa pine. But then it moved between the trees and the white dress shown with an orange sheen from the flames.
“She doesn’t have the girl with her,” Rawls said, defeat in his voice.
“But the bride’s followed us here, which means the girl’s close by. C’mon.”
From there it became a race across the mountainside for the handlers, the dog, and the robot, which having a “follow” mode, came last. Murder led the way. Angie ran hard, checking the ground to make sure she didn’t trip on a rock or stick. To slip and twist her ankle this close to the end would be a tremendous defeat. This close to the fire, it could mean death, too.
Murder barked at Angie to get a move on.
“I’m coming,” she yelled.
They came to the ravine that divided the sides of the mountain. There was a five foot drop that Angie had to scramble down. She lost her footing and fell on her butt, which made the pain in her side radiate outward like branches on an electric tree. Angie didn’t have a backpack to soften the blow anymore. Murder leaped down into the ravine and licked her face in worry.
“Okay, boy. Okay,” she said, trying to keep her black and blue off of her.
Rawls jumped down into the ravine with her and helped her up.
“What about the Wolf?” Angie asked. At the same moment, 200 pounds of machine plopped down the ravine side. It had to take a few steps to keep from tipping over, then turned as if to ask them what the holdup was.
They were above the bride now. They could see her running parallel to them. She was silhouetted by the fire, which was pushing up against the side of the mountain in glorious colors. The way the zombie moved, her dress flowing around her and her hair waving in the air, Angie thought of a demon amongst hellfires.
Despite the danger, Angie could feel the success of catching this zombie that had evaded them for two days. She had to remind herself that the bride was not the goal. The girl was. Sarah, her mind was telling her. The girl’s name is Sarah. And the bride could be leading us away from the lair.
They were getting so close that Angie could almost smell the rotting flesh among the flames. It smelled strangely sweet. The bride’s engagement ring and wedding band glinted in the firelight, and Angie wondered what the groom, if he was alive, or at least the bride’s family, would think if they knew this woman’s corpse had been kidnapped and turned into such a monstrous blasphemy.
Without warning Murder cut back against them and started running the opposite direction.
“Murder, get over here!” Angie said. “We’v
e almost got her!”
Rawls and the robot sprinted past Angie. This time, Rawls was prepared. He had the catch pole out and ready to leash the zombie.
As Rawls ran, he floated a question to her. It was as quick and silent a communication as basketball players pressing on a court. You go left, I’ll go under and get Murder.
Angie wasn’t very good at sports. “Go get her. Don’t worry about me!” she yelled.
“Murder, don’t be an ass. Not now. Not when we are so close.”
The dog barked at her, then turned and ran. Angie thought to grab him and put him on a leash, but, like the rest of Angie’s gear, he was currently chasing down a fleeing zombie.
Murder stopped, turned and barked at her again, then ran on. She was about to call him a third time, when something in the dark caught her eye. As Murder ran, he spooked some birds sitting in the pinyon above him. At least ten or twenty crows yelled their displeasure at the mongrel as they took flight. A whole murder of crows.
Angie followed her dog.
Murder ran straight up the mountainside. Angie’s legs were pumping fire by the time she caught up to him. He stopped abruptly at the edge of the mountain. Angie was not so good. Between the fire and the night and the unknown, she lost her footing and went flying over the ledge. The first rock crunched her side. The next sent her thoughts swirling up like embers, sailing on heat waves into the nighttime smoke.
When Angie came to, something was moving beside her. Instantly Angie thought of snakes. She also thought of dead girls being eaten alive by bugs, a thought that curdled in her stomach.
But it was no snake that slithered next to her. It was a little girl’s arm. Angie shined a light in the girl’s face. The girl was not watching her. She stared up at nothing from behind glassy eyes. Angie feared the girl was dead, so she tried to move to her, but her side ached and burned from where she landed.
She was on a rock ledge outside the lair where Sarah was being stored. In the bug’s haste, it had not completely buried Sarah, but left her arms dangling out of the cave.
Angie reached over and checked the girl’s pulse. It was weak, but steady. Below the girl, in the cave, two small larvae, like large deflated leeches, slid wetly along the girl’s Converses. Angie recognized the rainbow-colored shoe strings and bubbly heart on the side.
She looked for a rock or a stick, but all she found were leaves and pebbles. She pulled herself toward the leeches, which popped up and glared at her, showing a heinous wreath of teeth.
Then a new predator appeared. Murder jumped down into the narrow hole and bit the first larvae and wrung its milk-colored body in his mouth. The second larvae bit Murder’s side.
He barked, high-pitched and pained, letting go of the first larva and turning on the second. The next moment, he slid backwards suddenly like a scene in fast rewind. Behind him, Sarah Erikson was pulling him by the legs.
Angie did not understand. The girl was trying to protect the larva. Didn’t she know Murder was trying to save her?
Rawls swatted the catchpole at the bride, but the zombie ducked out of the way. He could not believe how quickly she moved. The Wolf continued in its “follow” mode, watching the fight like a silent spectator but not helping Rawls. He wished he had a partner with him.
Rawls tried to chase the zombie into a more enclosed space. As an Animal Control officer, he had been trained that a cornered animal was a desperate animal, but it was also easier to catch than an animal in the wide open. Of course, any kid who has played a game of tag knows that it’s harder to play in an open lot than in a backyard. He had to be patient and hope to maneuver the bride into a better place where it could be trapped.
The zombie seemed to know the game, too. The wasp, he reminded himself. This was a cold-blooded killer, not a puppy. His efforts were not paying off, however. As soon as he positioned the zombie at the corner of a thicket or between a couple of thick-bodied trees, the zombie would escape to an area with more space.
He hoped Angie and Murder were okay.
After a few minutes of cat-and-mouse, the zombie jumped away from a thicket area and up into the fire. The heat waves distorted the zombie’s already fouled figure.
Around him, trees crashed on fire. Rawls remembered what the firefighter had said about having three corners. He only had two. Maybe one.
But that meant the zombie had even less. It searched for a way out that didn’t involve a fiery death. As soon as it turned, Rawls dropped the loop over the bride’s head and squeezed. From his training, he knew that no zombie had lasted more than thirty seconds in a catchpole before falling unconscious. Sometimes they flailed around like a headless chicken, but they always succumbed to the blood loss. (Not that he had ever seen a chicken running around with its head cut off. The only headless chickens he had seen were pre-packaged.)
Twenty seconds later, the bride fell down, her arms positioned in a final struggle against the catchpole. He had caught her.
Murder changed tactics. With fire rushing up the mountain, he went from attack mode to save mode. Despite the giant cuts on his side from the white-bodied larvae attacks, Murder ran back and forth in the lair, trying to dodge the larvae while pulling out the humans. Sarah railed against him as he grabbed her by her blue jean collar.
“Good boy, Murder,” Angie shouted weakly. “Get her out of here!”
Murder tugged on the collar. Once he knew he had a handle that wouldn’t hurt the little girl, he pulled hard. Slowly, her body was dragged against her will out of the lair. The larvae followed after. Murder growled at them.
With Sarah out of the lair, Murder returned for Angie.
“I’m okay.” Murder whined his concern as he tugged on her. She sat up and began to pull herself away from the lair, but one of the fat sacks latched onto her leg. It was like being stabbed by a hundred hypodermic needles in the leg. Angie could not believe the pain.
“Oh my God!” she cried out. She screamed in a shrill tone.
Murder jumped on the larvae’s back and sunk his teeth in its curdled segments. The damned thing was like a living tumor. It squealed as it twisted around, curling like a shrimp in a pot of boiling water as it reached for the dog.
A giant buzzing sound filled Angie’s ears. She thought she might faint. She sat back against the rocks and held Sarah close. Sarah was no longer fighting Angie or Murder. She just lay in Angie’s arms like a lump.
Too late, Angie realized that the buzzing was coming from a wasp. How it had escaped Rawls, she did not know. She was sure Dr. Saracen would have a theory about wasps separating from their hosts, in this case, the bride. Its wings flittered as it skittered down the rocks to its lair. Its stinger hung jagged and short, like it had been wrenched violently out of the bride’s head.
The bright crimson wasp appeared even more nightmarish with the curtain of fire behind it. Flickers of flame crashed down around them, and Angie knew the wildfire had gotten too close.
Before she passed out, she saw Murder snapping at the wasp above him while the larvae bit him from behind.
Chapter Eleven
Angie was dreaming. She knew she was dreaming, and she did not care. Here, she was not tired. Here, she was not hurt. She was out by the creek. Some of her favorite dogs were with her. She was playing ball with them. The water was cool and refreshing on her bare feet. She was happy. Happier than she had been in a long time.
Something moved in the trees beyond the creek. Angie wasn’t scared of it being a monster like a zombie or a werewolf. She knew it was an even greater monster. Her mother was out there.
“Angie,” her father said. He was in the creek, astride his horse, Juniper. Angie had always liked the way her father looked sitting on top of Juniper.
“Angie, you have to wake up.”
“But I don’t want to.”
“Then you are going to have to go to the forest.”
“But Mom’s there.”
“I know, my sweet child. But you don’t have a choice.”
&
nbsp; Angie was suddenly aware that the dogs were sitting and waiting on her to make a decision. The ball bobbed as it swept downriver. The water current grew louder and louder. She could barely hear her dad’s voice over the rush of water.
“Angie, wake up.”
Angie woke to a world of flames. The noise of the creek hadn’t been water after all, but torrents of fire crackling around her. She opened her eyes and found Murder curled up next to her. He was bloody and puffy, and a piece of his hide was missing. The wasp lay dead in front of them, as did the larvae. Angie kicked the bug and felt an unholy snap of its neck under her boots. She put her hand on Murder’s head. Her black and blue nuzzled her weakly.
“Get up, Murder,” she said.
He whined piteously, so she pulled herself up to her knees. She had fallen down into a narrow ledge where the wasp had built its lair and left the girl as food for its larvae. Angie could look over the ledge and down the mountainside. Fire was blowing up at them. Its heat was so intense, the skin on the side of her that was angled toward the flames was turning red. If she hadn’t been wearing the brush coat, her skin may have already started to boil.
She could move her legs and she hadn’t broken her hip or anything else. Luck had been on her side twice. She rubbed Sarah’s arm.
“Sweetie,” Angie said through a dry, cottony mouth, “My name is Angie Graves. This is my dog. We were sent here to find you. We need to leave.”
The girl glared at Angie.
“Do you know where you are?”
The girl didn’t answer.
“There must be something going on, chemically, with your brain,” Angie said. “I think the wasp did something to you to make you like this. Do you understand anything I am saying?”
The girl still didn’t respond. Suddenly, tears streamed down the girl’s face.
Angie tried to call the firefighters on the radio, but the unit was busted. It had absorbed the brunt of her fall, but the result was a smashed radio.