Mojave Green

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Mojave Green Page 9

by The Brothers Washburn


  Lenny, pacing excitedly in front of the car, suddenly burst out, “Dude. This is so cool, catching stuff, wild stuff, like snakes and lizards. Just roaming out here free, living off the land. The only lizards I ever saw as a kid were in the zoo. What kind of lizards did you guys catch?”

  “Oh, you know.” Cal leaned back on the hood of his car. Facing the sun, he stretched his arms out in the warm spring desert air as if to catch more rays. “We’d catch iguanas, zebra tails, rainbow bellies, chuckwallas, and of course, horny toads. Whatever we could find. I’d keep them in an old aquarium and feed ’em bugs and lettuce, and then, you know, we’d let ’em go.”

  “Dude, let’s find a lizard to catch.” Lenny began hunting around in the nearby bushes.

  Camm rolled her eyes. Some boys never grow up.

  She had to admit, though, Lenny was never down for long, and he didn’t seem to hold grudges. His childlike enthusiasm was always close to the surface. In spite of herself, Camm was beginning to, well, not like him, but maybe get used to his strange personality. While the constant use of the word “dude” was irritating, at least he was direct and to the point. He was obviously intelligent, and, like Martha, didn’t make long speeches.

  Camm heard the sound of an approaching car. Craning her neck, she saw Agent Allen’s Mustang driving along the narrow oiled road leading in to Valley Wells from Trona Road.

  She gave Martha a quick squeeze. “That snake is long gone. Come on. Help has finally arrived. I’ll introduce you to Agent Allen.”

  Running out of the shielding trees, Camm waved her arms to show where they were. Too late, she saw that Agent Allen had a passenger. Panic rose in her throat before she decided Agent Allen must have been assigned a partner for this investigation.

  The car pulled to a dusty stop. Agent Allen climbed out of the driver’s side. Camm hurried over and gave Agent Allen a light hug before focusing on the tall good-looking man who was unfolding himself out of the other side of the car.

  He wore a dark blue suit, a white shirt, and a nondescript tie. He stretched in the warm sunlight and looked expectantly at Agent Allen. His outfit was formal and very warm for Trona. Though it was still spring, temperatures were already pushing ninety. In a slow and leisurely manner, he removed his suit jacket, and after stretching again, tossed it into the back seat of the car. Camm could not help but notice the muscles bulging underneath the white shirt.

  Nice partner, Camm thought, hiding a smile. The man had a firm jaw and a chiseled, manly face. He was not only tall, but also well proportioned. He clearly worked out. He was very good looking, but something about the way he was watching her was disturbing.

  “Camm,” Agent Allen began tentatively, “this is Mr. Roberts. He is with Swift Creek, the company overseeing the security of the mansion. You remember them, don’t you?”

  Camm gasped and drew away. She stared at Mr. Roberts in disbelief. Using Agent Allen as a barrier, she slowly backed away.

  “Of course, I remember Swift Creek.” Camm scowled at Agent Allen. “They threatened to put Cal and me in prison. Forever!”

  Agent Allen’s awkward pose showed she was uncomfortable about bringing the man from Swift Creek with her, but that did not take away Camm’s feeling of betrayal.

  Cal jogged up and stood next to her. Pointing at the suit, he asked, “Who’s the new guy?”

  Camm threw Cal a meaningful look. “Richards or something. He’s from Swift Creek.”

  Cal’s face immediately tightened. “Oh crap!”

  “Roberts, my name is Roberts.” The suit spoke up. “And I’m not here to throw you in prison—not yet anyway. Linda, uh, Agent Allen assures us she has the matter in hand.”

  Camm gave Agent Allen a pleading look. How could you betray us?

  Agent Allen’s shoulders slumped, but only for a moment. She took a breath. “Camm, I have never lied to you, and I would never betray you. They knew you were coming to Trona before I did. They knew you were sending me a text before I did. They came to me—I didn’t turn you in to them. I promise. They’ve agreed to let me handle this my way.”

  Camm eyed the man narrowly. He flashed his white smile at her in spite of her obvious animosity toward him.

  This guy is a charmer. He’s well aware of how attractive he is. All the more reason not to let down my guard for even one second.

  “You kids can’t stay here.” He directed his comments in a friendly way to both Camm and Cal, as if he already knew them. “You know that. It’s for your own good. We will escort you through town and turn you loose on the other side, but you have to keep moving. You cannot stay. You cannot come back, or even Agent Allen won’t be able to help you.”

  He hardened his face, trying to look like he meant business.

  Camm resisted the temptation to ask questions. She was dying to know what was going on now in Trona, what the new developments were. She trusted Agent Allen, but was sure this Roberts guy would just lie—he would flash a big handsome smile, and then lie to her. She decided she didn’t like him. She certainly didn’t like being called a kid.

  “Rick.” Agent Allen laid her hand on his arm. “Just give me a minute to talk to them. These are intelligent adults. I just need a few minutes to converse with them in private.”

  He held up both hands as if in surrender. “Go ahead, Linda, but you know they’ll be watching for us to drive through town and out the other side. We need to get these kids on their way to L.A. as soon as possible.”

  Camm thought, So it’s Rick and Linda, is it? They’re on a first name basis. And how does he know we’re going to L.A.?

  Looking behind Camm and Cal, Agent Allen called out, “Martha. Lenny. Would you two stay back by Cal’s car, please? I need to talk to Camm and Cal alone.”

  Camm traded startled glances with Cal. Glancing back, Camm watched Martha and Lenny slow to a stop and turn back toward the Camaro.

  “How do you know they’re—” Camm began, but was cut off by Agent Allen.

  “Swift Creek,” she said, shrugging. “They know everything. Everything!”

  With a wave, she directed Camm and Cal to walk with her out into the open desert, away from Agent Roberts. About fifteen yards out, Agent Allen turned to face them, but stood looking at her feet, rubbing her hands together. She was obviously not happy.

  Camm stood tall, arms folded, watching her closely. This better be good.

  Before Agent Allen could speak, Martha, who was standing back at the Camaro with Lenny, loudly exclaimed, “Ohhh! Ohhh!” Camm looked back just as Martha bent down and started vomiting violently onto the ground.

  Suddenly, Camm felt uneasy herself, like she was carsick. Grabbing her stomach, she rocked backward, as if to catch her balance. The ground seemed to move under her feet, and she felt as though she were falling.

  Camm steadied herself, slowly feeling normal again. She looked around, trying to figure out what was happening. Everything had a shimmery appearance, as if she were seeing through a special effects screen. The shimmering stopped. Then, she saw it. Something was coming toward her out of nowhere—something that definitely was not normal!

  A fuzzy moving carpet emerged out of the desert sagebrush, scurrying along the sandy ground toward where Camm and Cal stood with Agent Allen. The carpet was bumpy and not of uniform consistency or color. It moved in an uneven pattern—some parts moving faster than other parts. It seemed to be traveling on thousands, no, millions of little legs.

  Agent Allen took off sprinting toward her car, running at right angles to the direction the carpet was headed. “Run! Run!” she yelled. She had removed her pistol from its holster, but seemed not to know where to point it.

  Cal ran a few steps away, following Agent Allen, but when Camm didn’t follow, he ran back and grabbed her arm, trying to pull her with him. Camm stumbled a step or two in Cal’s direction, but remained transfixed on whatever it was that was moving directly at her.

  What is it? She realized it wasn’t one thing, but many different thin
gs all moving in the same direction at different speeds. Some were larger. Some had fur, while others were shiny black. Some were brown or tan. She noticed all had their own legs. Many legs. Many, many legs.

  Camm’s heart stopped and an involuntary scream erupted from her mouth. They were spiders, huge spiders, the biggest spiders Camm had ever seen. There were thousands of them, a herd of spiders, a stampede of spiders, running on thin, wiry spider legs.

  All of them running toward Camm.

  She saw Daddy-Long-Legs the size of saucers, running with long, spindly legs rising two feet or more above the ground. Running underneath were brown, furry tarantulas that looked like deformed eight-legged schnauzers. Scattered throughout the stampede were shiny, glimmering black widows, their compound eyes and pinchers enormous! Camm could see the red hourglasses on their stomachs as they pushed up in the rush forward.

  Enormous brown, black, and tan spiders zigzagged randomly through the herd, jumping over white spiders with black stripes and dark green spiders with brown dots. Evil-looking garden spiders scurried along the top of the others because they were faster. The smallest spiders were the size of rodents, and the largest were big enough to suck a rodent dry.

  They were moving fast, and they were moving directly at Camm and Cal.

  “Come on! Come on!” Cal was screaming. “Come on, Camm! Get out of the way!”

  Cal still had a grip on Camm’s arm and tried to pull her in the direction Agent Allen had run. Camm turned to run with him, but in turning, her feet tangled. She fell flat on her stomach. Cal lost his hold on her arm and stumbled away, trying to regain his own balance. Even as he turned to go back, it was too late.

  Before Camm could get up, the spiders swarmed over her. While no one spider was very heavy, the swarm pushed her down, pressing her to the ground. She tried to protect her face by burying it in the sand and placing her hands over her ears.

  The spider legs pumped up and down as they ran over her. She could feel them on her legs and rear, on her back, arms, and hands. They ran over her neck and onto the back of her head, snagging her hair and tangling it up in their feet. Like a hundred thousand tiny hammers, they pounded across her body, making her skin itch as if she had an open rash.

  She sensed Cal thrashing nearby. He had come back, kicking his feet and flailing his arms, trying in vain to protect her. Sand, dirt, and spiders flew into the air. Brushing her with sagebrush boughs, he tried to get the spiders off her, to keep them away from her. But the swarm was too much.

  The spiders ignored him, and her, too. None stopped to fight back. All were intent on running away from something else. In a panic, they continued their frantic rush over Camm’s back and around Cal’s flailing legs. It could only have been a few moments, but it seemed they were engulfed in a tsunami of hairy, ugly, nasty, enormous spiders forever.

  The sensation of spine-like spider legs poking and prodding along her backside finally slowed, and then stopped. Camm rolled over and sat up in a slump, scrubbing her face with her hands. Her hair poked out in all directions. Her body tingled and itched as the sensation of prickly spiders legs lingered even after they were gone. She felt sick again, and thought she might heave at any moment as her mind kept replaying the helpless feeling of being buried alive in a living, squirming pile of giant spiders.

  “Camm, look out! Look out!” Cal was screaming again, struggling to pull her to her feet.

  Camm let go of Cal’s hand so she could brush the hair out of her face, trying to see what Cal was screaming about. Then she saw it. One spider remained, moving slower than the others. The size of a footstool, it was brownish-gray in color and more furry than any of the others. But this fur was different. Each thick strand of fur seemed to move and wiggle independently of the rest. It was on her even as she saw it.

  As it ran into her, it shattered into hundreds of pieces. Instantly, Camm realized this spider was not furry at all. It was a mother spider carrying hundreds of her babies all over her body. As the spider hit Camm, the babies came loose. Scurrying around, they completely enveloped Camm, trying to attach to Camm as if she were their mother. Each baby was the size of a quarter and, of course, had eight legs. Camm’s body disappeared from sight as she was smothered by the infant spider hoard.

  They trampled across her skin, on her legs and arms. She could feel them running through her clothes. They became entangled in her hair. She could feel their legs and squirming bodies as they ran under her collar, then along and around her neck. They covered her face, rushing over her closed eyes, sticking their legs between her lips, up her nose, in her ears. Her sitting form became an undulating spider heap. For long moments, they covered her entirely. She did not dare move, not even to open her mouth to scream.

  Then, they left her and scurried off, following their lumbering mother, hurrying away after the rest of the spiders—all running, desperate to get away. All were fleeing in panic as fast as their spider legs could carry them.

  As the last of the baby spiders left her, Camm rolled over onto her hands and knees and violently spewed her breakfast into the hot desert sand. She tried to get up, but fell back down.

  Cal reached down and pulled her to her feet. She brushed frantically at her torso and legs. “Are there any left? Get them off me! Are they all gone? I can’t get them off!”

  Cal was clearly shaken, too, but he looked her over carefully, his big hands brushing her back and shoulders and hair with a calming, steady motion. “I don’t see any. They’re all gone,” he assured her. “Even the babies were big, too big to hide in your clothes. If there were any left on you, we would be able to see them for sure.”

  Camm felt as if they were still on her, moving across her body, in her blouse, down her pants. She could still feel those baby spider legs in her nose and mouth, across her eyes and ears. She rubbed her face vigorously and spit several times. Her body shivered violently as she spun around and around, brushing away what had already left.

  Cal grabbed her by her forearms and tried to pull her to him. “Camm, they are gone. They are all gone.” She fought against him, still trying to brush at her body, but he overcame her and pulled her to him, embracing her in his long, strong arms. She finally gave in, buried her face in his chest, and sobbed once, then twice.

  That was all she needed. Her body relaxed, and her breathing slowed as her heart gradually caught its natural rhythm. As Cal held her, she seemed to absorb his strength, to assume his calm. When all else failed, Cal had always been there. She rested on him, letting him hold her as she centered herself on her own two feet.

  Agent Allen appeared and patted her back. “They’re gone, Camm, they’re gone. You can still see them running away, but they have all left here.”

  Camm took a deep breath and gently pushed away from Cal. Dust covered her face except where tear tracks ran down her cheeks. She looked from Agent Allen to Cal, and then back to Agent Allen. Camm’s eyes felt red and swollen. Anger and fear tinged her voice. “What in heaven’s name was that?” She tried to sound firm, but her voice cracked.

  Lenny called out an unhelpful answer. “Those were spiders, dude. Those were monster spiders.” He turned to Martha, who was visibly shaken and crying, and said, in a lower voice, “Dude, there were times I couldn’t even see her, there were so many spiders on her!”

  Martha ignored him. She held her hands to her mouth, noticeably trembling.

  Camm ignored Lenny, but continued to stare at Agent Allen, waiting for her reply. Agent Allen was shaken, too. She tossed her head toward Mr. Roberts. “Let’s go get some answers.”

  Rick was just getting out of the Mustang when he saw Linda, Camm, and Cal walking toward him. As soon as he saw the stampede of giant spiders coming, he had hopped into the car and rolled up all the windows. Even after the stampede had passed, he was slow getting back out. He kept checking to be sure nothing else was coming. He had a spooky feeling those spiders were being chased by something, and he kept watching to see what it might be.

  W
hen he took the Trona assignment, he was warned to be ready for some pretty weird stuff. But that giant-spider stampede, coming out of nowhere, had totally caught him off guard. He wondered if he was being paid enough for this kind of duty.

  Watching the FBI agent approach the car with Camm and Cal, he sighed, knowing they were coming for answers, real answers, and he had precious few. True, he worked for Swift Creek, but the top brass at Swift Creek didn’t know everything, and they shared very little of what they did know with the lower ranks. He knew he was going to get the brunt of the blame for what just happened, but it was not his fault.

  He had been sent with the FBI agent to see these kids removed from the valley so that something like this wouldn’t happen to them. He hoped they had learned their lesson and would be a little more cooperative now about getting out of Trona and staying out.

  As the three walked up to him, the girl, Camm, was still checking herself all over for left-behind spiders, patting her body and looking down her blouse. Cal kept assuring her he could not see any spiders anywhere.

  Linda was giving him a narrow look that said, What do you have to say for yourself?

  Why did he have to explain anything? He didn’t cause the phenomenon, and no one knew how to stop it. They didn’t even know how to predict when and where it would happen. Still, he knew what his employer required of him and the image he had to maintain, an image of complete and absolute control. He suddenly wished he had never taken this assignment and could go back to work for the CIA. Right now, the CIA seemed like the good old days.

  The three came to a halt directly in front of him, but they were still focused on reassuring Camm, helping her calm down.

  He decided to be proactive. Before any of them could speak, he said, “Ms. Smith come here. Let’s check you over for bites.”

  He tried to sound calm and experienced in this type of thing—as if anyone could be experienced in what had just happened. At least, he would attempt to sound professional.

 

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