Bats

by William W. Johnstone

  Johnny nodded. At that instant, the two men understood each other. And the trooper and the ex-spook formed a bond of friendship as they stood on the shoulder of a blacktop road, a few yards from a dead cow.

  Captain Alden drove up, and a sergeant from the troop pulled in right behind him. Mark introduced Johnny and the four of them turned and looked at the cow.

  Alden knelt down and stared at the mutilated hide. “Teeth marks,” he finally said. “But very odd ones.”

  “Much larger than I’ve ever seen,” Johnny said. “And I’ve seen dozens of cases of bat bites in South America and Mexico.”

  Captain Alden nodded his head. He stood up and faced Johnny. “I ran a check on you, Mr. MacBride. Or tried to. You’re clean as a whistle in the state of Louisiana. But Federal? Now that got interesting. And frustrating. We’ll have to have a long chat sometime. Larger bite marks than you’ve ever seen, huh? Well, that really makes my day. You have any more surprises for me?”

  “I’m fresh out, Captain. But I’ll think on it some.”

  Captain Alden was a streetwise cop. He was no political appointee to troop commander . . . at least as much as one can not be in nearly any state of the Union. He had never had PI—Political Influence—stamped on any recommendation for promotion. He had been wounded in the line of duty once, and had dropped the hammer on criminals twice, both of them killing shots.

  And he was getting some curious vibes about Johnny MacBride. MacBride was a retired Army Colonel, spending over twenty years in intelligence. But what the computer printout didn’t say spoke volumes. Captain Alden concluded that Johnny MacBride was a very dangerous man. The chest-pounding, loudmouth bully boys are almost always full of hot air and bullshit. The quiet, very self-assured and confident ones, like MacBride, will kill you without blinking.

  Johnny took a couple of keys out of his pocket and handed them to Mark. “You all will be wanting to keep this quiet. I suggest you use my home as a BO for a time.”

  “As a what?” the Sergeant asked.

  “Base of Operations,” Johnny told him.

  “That’s kind of you, Mr. MacBride,” Captain Alden said.

  “Johnny, Captain. Just Johnny.”

  “I’m Tom.” He started to add something just as the kerwhackedy sounds of a helicopter came to them.

  The sergeant’s handy-talkie squawked and he answered. “They’ll set down in that field,” he told Captain Alden, pointing. He looked at Mark. “You did check it out, right?”

  “Right. It’s clear. No quicksand, alligators, Viet Cong, or Arab terrorists,” Mark added with a straight face.

  The sergeant sighed and Captain Alden shook his head. Johnny guessed those in command had long grown accustomed to Hayden’s wisecracking.

  “Where are these people from?” Johnny asked, as the chopper slowly began setting down in the field and the Sergeant started his walk over to greet them.

  “LSU and Tulane,” Alden replied.

  “Sheriff Young coming up fast,” Hayden said, looking south down the road.

  “I expected him,” the captain said. “Forty or fifty cars and trucks have passed us in the last half hour, with everybody rubbernecking. One of them called it in.”

  Johnny had never formally met the sheriff of the parish, but they had nodded at one another several times. From all reports, the man seemed to be a competent officer.

  “Phil,” Captain Alden greeted him. “We weren’t deliberately keeping you out of this. I was going to call you.”

  Sheriff Young nodded and looked at Johnny. “You bought the old Perkins place, right?”

  “That’s right.” Johnny stuck out his hand. “Johnny MacBride.”

  “Phil Young. Good to meet you. I’ve been meaning to stop by and ask how much you wanted for that ’65 Mustang.”

  “It isn’t for sale. I’ve probably got five thousand hours in working on it.”

  “I’m sure you have. At least,” the sheriff replied. “It’s a beauty.” He looked first at the dead cow, then at Captain Alden. “Is that the reason you’re all gathered out here, Tom?”

  “It’s been drained of blood, Phil.”

  “You’re kidding! A prank, you suppose?”

  “No. Johnny here says it was done by bats.”

  “Bats!”

  “Bats,” Captain Alden repeated.

  Mark turned up the collar of his shirt and tried to look like Bela Lugosi. “Don’t start, Hayden,” Alden warned him. “Don’t say a word. Vehicles coming up. Go direct traffic. And straighten up your shirt.”

  When Mark had walked to the center of the road, Alden said, “He’s a good trooper. One of the best. But he’s a clown at heart.”

  Two men and two women walked out of the thin line of timber that separated the road from the field, following the sergeant. They all carried small bags. They went straight to the body of the cow, foregoing introductions. They knelt and squatted down and stared.

  “Incredible,” one said.

  “Astounding,” another said.

  “Astonishing,” the third said.

  “Holy shit!” the fourth one blurted—a very attractive lady wearing jeans and a faded denim shirt; both of which she filled out nicely. Johnny guessed her to be in her mid-thirties. And she was not wearing a wedding band.

  “Who discovered this?” the first one asked.

  Captain Alden jerked his thumb at Johnny. “He did.”

  “A couple of hours ago,” Johnny said.

  The very pretty lady shoved her sunglasses up and looked at him. Dark hair, dark eyes. “You live close by?”

  “Just down the road.”

  “He bought your grandfather’s old place, Blair,” Sheriff Young said. “Blair Perkins, Johnny MacBride.”

  Blair and Johnny inspected each other for about ten seconds. She nodded her head. “Did you touch this carcass, Mr. MacBride?”

  “No. And call me Johnny.”

  “Did anybody touch the carcass?”

  “Not to my knowledge.”

  A pickup truck rolled to a halt, right in the middle of the road, the driver ignoring Trooper Hayden’s signals. “Goddamnit, Sheriff!” the man hollered. “Some goddamn kids killed two of my goddamn cows last night. What in the goddamn hell are you going to do about it. Goddamnit!”

  “How do you know it was kids, Frank?” Phil asked.

  “Well, who else would take a knife and whack ‘em all up? You get some people on it, Phil. That’s what we’re payin’ you to do, ain’t it? And goddamnit, do it before next year, will you?” He jerked the truck into gear and roared off, nearly running over Mark, who did some fancy stepping and some down-home cussing.

  “What a charming fellow,” Johnny remarked. “He’s run me off this road twice.”

  “I sure don’t doubt that,” Phil said. “Frank Wirth. And he’s a one hundred percent, fourteen karat turd!”

  Blair laughed. “He always has been, Phil.”

  “We’re going to need someplace to work,” an older man said, standing up. “Blair, you get somebody to run you over to that obnoxious fellow’s place and look at those dead cattle.”

  “I can take her over there,” Johnny quickly volunteered, just as Mark Hayden opened his mouth to offer.

  “Highway department has some buildings just up the road,” Phil said.

  “Good. We’ll use them. Can you clear that for us, Captain?”

  “No problem.”

  “And we’ll need a truck with a lift,” another man said.

  “I’ll get one out here,” the sergeant said.

  “You ready to ride, Ms. Perkins?” Johnny asked.

  “Blair, please. Yes, I’m ready.”

  Johnny held the door for her and then turned the truck around in the road.

  “That’s an illegal turn!” Mark called, a grin on his lips.

  Johnny gave him the Bird and Mark gave him two in return.

  “You’re from this area?” Johnny asked.

  Blair nodded her head. “Rais
ed on a farm just a bit north and east of here. But I don’t remember you.”

  “I’m not from here. I bought the property some years ago. I retired from the military last year and built a home. Right up that road,” he said, pointing.

  “You’re awfully young to be retired.”

  “I made grade pretty fast.” He smiled. “I lied about my age and went in at fifteen. Are you a teacher?”

  She nodded her head. “Veterinary medicine. You know we’ve got a problem here?”

  “One hell of a big problem, I’d say. No vampire bat that I ever saw had a mouth big enough to make bites like those back there. Do bats mate exclusively with their own kind?”

  “Not much is known about that. What are you getting at?”

  “Mutants.”

  “Vampire bats can’t live in this climate. To my knowledge only one vampire bat has ever been found in the United States and that was down in South Texas years ago. Their range is from Central Mexico down into South America.”

  “I know their range. I’ve also seen bats that weighed close to three pounds and had a wingspan of nearly five and a half feet.”

  “Pteropus Vampyrus.”

  “I’ll take your word for that.”

  “The largest of the carnivorous bats is the one called Vampyrum Spectrum. They have a wing spread of just over two feet.”

  “And the true vampire bat is called . . . ?”

  “Desmodus Rotundus. Among other names.”

  “I heard something go over my house this morning. I’d never heard anything quite like it. When we finish up here at the grump’s place, I want to drive into town to get some wire mesh to cover a dog run; protect my dogs.”

  She gave him a careful and very appraising look. “There are a lot of people who would not go to that trouble.”

  “I’m not like most people. In most ways. Having pets is a responsibility that, unfortunately, a lot of people don’t take very seriously.”

  “What did you hear this morning?”

  “They weren’t birds. They were bats, going back to roost, somewhere.”

  “You can’t be sure of that.”

  “I’m sure that cow back there in the ditch has been drained of nearly all its blood. I’m sure that what I heard this morning passing over or near my house was not your ordinary songbirds coming in from a night of serenading. And I’m sure that I’d like to have you over to my house for dinner sometime.” He was shocked at himself for saying that. That wasn’t like him—at all. He had never been forward with women. He smiled. “That was very forward of me. I apologize.”

  “No need for that. Forward,” Blair said with a smile. “I haven’t heard that word in twenty or more years. It’s refreshing.”

  Johnny turned onto a dirt road and about five hundred yards later, he saw the two dead cows. Even from the road, they looked shrunken.

  Blair said, “Bats take very small sips of blood. Do you realize how many bats it would take to drain a cow of blood?”

  Johnny had never been more serious when he said, “More than I ever want to see. That’s for damn sure.”

  They got out and walked the short distance to the dead cows. Just like the cow back in the ditch. Covered with hundreds of savage bite marks. Johnny looked at Blair. She was standing with her arms folded under her breasts, her face a study in concentration.

  “We’re in trouble,” she said very softly. “I think we’re in a lot of trouble.”

  Johnny got his camera and shot a roll of film. “I’d better get a lot more film while I’m in town.”

  “You think they’ll be more dead, don’t you?”

  “I think we haven’t found the dead humans yet.”

  Blair shuddered. “Maybe we’re overreacting?”

  “You really believe that?”

  She looked at him. “No.”

  Three

  Back at the site of the original find, Sheriff Young called Johnny to one side. “I’ve called my office, Johnny. Stop by and get sworn in at the clerk’s office and pick up your badge at my secretary’s desk.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “As a crutch.”

  “Hell, Sheriff. You don’t even know me.”

  Sheriff Young smiled. “I know more about you than you think, Mr. MacBride. My brother works for NSA.”

  Johnny smiled. “I’ll wager he didn’t tell you much.”

  “You’re right there. But you’re a good, solid, dependable man who keeps a tight lip and can be trusted with the keys to Fort Knox.” He pointed to the truck carrying the dead cow. “If those doctors are right, and they were damned upset, we’ve got a big problem facing us in this parish. I’m going to need all the help I can get.”

  “All right, Sheriff. I’ll stop by your office. What did the doctors say to you?”

  “Very little. But those were three damned shook-up medical people, or scientists, or whatever the hell they are. I gotta go. See you, Johnny.”

  Johnny looked around. Blair had hitched a ride with a deputy to the old state highway buildings. The only ones left at the original site were Johnny and Trooper Mark Hayden. He handed Johnny’s keys to him. “They’ll be using the highway department buildings for headquarters. Captain Alden said to return these to you with thanks.”

  Johnny pocketed the keys. “The sheriff tell you he wants me to be deputized?”

  “I recommended you.”

  “Why?”

  Mark stuffed his cheek with chewing tobacco before answering. “We have talk of giant, blood-drinking bats flying around this area, who might have the capacity to spread rabies and bubonic plague. The doctors and scientists are shook clear down to their toenails. I heard Blair Perkins tell the sheriff that you think there are human bodies still to be found after last night, and you’re as calm as if you were sitting in Buckingham Palace drinking tea with the Queen of England. That tells me a hell of a lot more about you than any report could ever do.” He took out a business card and wrote on the back. “That’s my home phone. You get any ideas about what’s going on, you call me. I’ll see you down at the sheriff’s office in a little bit.”

  Johnny was sworn in, picked up his badge, had a cup of coffee with several field deputies and the office staff, and then went on about his business. Back home, he went under the house and carefully inspected the area. No bats hanging there. That area was sealed to prevent pipes from freezing and bursting, and Johnny further and firmly closed it off except for one place in the rear where he planned on putting up the tough wire mesh. The dogs could now get under the house and out of any weather. He worked steadily, without a break, until the middle of the afternoon, stringing and tightly securing with nails and hog rings a dozen rolls of wire. June and Skipper could now have ample running space and a place to answer the call of nature, and be safe from predators. He would have to do some honey-dipping every day or two, but he didn’t mind that.

  Using the last of his heavy wire, Johnny secured the screened-in front porch and half a dozen windows that he opened the most frequently. At no time did he feel foolish about doing that nor did he experience any thought that he was overreacting. As a field operative, often walking a very deadly tightrope in dozens of dangerous situations over the years, Johnny had learned long ago to play his hunches.

  At the sheriff’s office, he had picked up a detailed parish map and was just about to fix a drink and sit down to study it when he heard a car come crunching up the gravel drive. June and Skipper were highly irritated when he would not let them out into the gathering dusk to investigate the visitor.

  “Only in your new runaround, gang,” he told them. Like most pet owners, he talked to his dogs. He relaxed when he saw it was Blair.

  “I thought I’d take you up on that offer of dinner,” she called from the gate. “And bring you up to date on what happened this afternoon.”

  “Blair, once in this house, it would be very stupid for you to expose yourself to the night. I think this house, or at least this part of the property, is righ
t under the fly-path of those bats. Think about it.”

  She hesitated for only seconds, then took a piece of luggage out of the back seat and opened the gate. “You’re right,” she said, walking up to the porch. “I didn’t think. But I warn you, I eat like a field hand.”

  Johnny held open the door and took her suitcase, which was surprisingly heavy. The lady has some strength, he thought. “Where are the others staying?”

  “At the highway department buildings. The nearest decent motel is miles away. The sheriff provided some cots and bedding. There is also a place to shower there. That’s where I cleaned up.”

  Johnny secured the porch door and Blair looked at the work he’d done. She faced him in the growing gloom of fading light. “You’ve been busy.”

  “Very. Come on in.”

  In the large den, she looked around. It was a man’s home, no mistaking that. There were no frills. The home was tiled throughout. But it was very expensive tile, and waxed and buffed to a glow. The furniture was comfortable-looking. The television was huge, a 52-inch screen. She’d noticed a satellite dish in the side yard. Classical music was softly playing from a very good stereo set, pushing through expensive speakers. Mozart, she thought. One wall was lined with books, and she felt they were not there for show. She was correct. Johnny was an avid reader.

  Johnny opened a door and clicked on the lights. “I’ll get you some linen. There are towels in the bathroom. When I built this house, I swore there’d be a bathroom for every bedroom.” He smiled. “That comes from being raised poor, I suppose.”

  “Where were you raised?”

  “I was born in South Carolina.” And he had no more to add to that.

  She dropped that subject.

  “Dinner at about eight?” he asked.

  “That would be fine.”

  “Martini?”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Steak, baked, and salad?”

  “Delicious. Make mine rare.”

  “Me, too.”

  The drinks were sitting on the coffee table when she came out of the bedroom after freshening up.

  “I took a guess and made them on the rocks,” Johnny said.

  “Perfect.” Blair sat down in an overstuffed chair and took a sip. “That tastes good. Well, I can tell you this much. None of the samples we took tested positive for rabies or any type of plague.”