by Tim Waggoner
The carrier’s path wasn’t going to bring him close to Kevin—although it was close enough for him to be able to determine that yes, the man did not blink. Kevin removed the hand scanner from his pocket, and he quickly activated the device and pointed it at the carrier. He was not at all surprised to see the readout light up with a series of symbols indicating extremely high levels of negative energy. If a human carried that much negative energy, he or she would be dead. Then again, given the strange way he moved, maybe he was dead. In Kevin’s line of work, it wasn’t always easy to tell.
Kevin allowed his gaze to linger on the readout for several seconds to ensure the Analysts got a good look at it. He then deactivated the device and slipped it into his pocket. He was about to follow the carrier when Olivia spoke.
“Place sensors inside the house. I’ll follow him.”
He heard the van start up and watched as Olivia pulled away from the curb and started driving slowly down the street in the direction the carrier had taken, the same direction from which he’d come. The man—or whatever he was—continued down the sidewalk at a good clip, ignoring all the other houses he passed.
The van’s windows were down, and Olivia waved at Kevin as she passed, although she didn’t take her gaze off the carrier. Kevin scowled and his hand tightened on the clipboard. Since when did she give the orders? A Surveillance Team were supposed to be equals, working toward a common goal. There was a certain amount of give and take, as in any partnership, but one didn’t order the other. It was simply not how things were done.
Kevin glared at the back of the van as Olivia trailed the carrier. He wasn’t the most confrontational person in the world, but he was going to have to talk with Olivia and straighten out a few things. He didn’t care how tight she was with Deanna. If he allowed her to boss him around at the beginning of their partnership, he’d have to put up with it forever. That conversation was going to have to wait, though. He still needed to place those sensors, and he wanted to get a look at the envelope the carrier had left. It might—
His thoughts halted abruptly when he saw Joan Lantz’s Mazda turn onto Hollyhock Avenue and begin heading toward her house. And him.
* * *
Joan was still shaking from her vivid recollection—okay, near-hallucination—of the night her family, and that fuckwad Billy, had died, and at first she didn’t see the man standing in her yard. It wasn’t until her car was halfway up the driveway, her thumb on the button of the garage door opener attached to the visor above her, when she finally noticed him. She hit the brake too hard and was thrown forward and almost smacked her forehead on the steering wheel. She put the car in park, turned off the ignition, and got out. Before she realized what she was doing, she was marching across the grass toward the man, brow furrowed in a dangerous frown, fists clenched as if she might throw a punch or two when she reached him.
As she charged toward him, she noted his uniform and his clipboard, and part of her mind catalogued him as worker, probably power or water. But she didn’t care if he had a reason—even a good reason—to be standing on her lawn in the afternoon holding his goddamned clipboard. This was her house, and she would allow no one—no-fucking-one—to trespass on her property.
The man opened his mouth to speak as she drew near, but she cut him off before he could say anything.
“Who the hell are you and what the fuck do you want?”
The man winced as if she’d slapped him, and seeing his reaction drained some of the anger from her. But not all.
“Sorry,” she said. “Bad day. Let me try that again. Can I help you?” Better, but her voice still held a sharp edge. So be it. Today, this was as much nice as the guy was going to get from her.
“I’m Kevin…Benecke.” He sounded hesitant as he added his last name, as if unsure if he should give it. “I work for…” He paused and glanced down at his clipboard, as if he were an actor who’d forgotten his lines and needed to check his script. “The power company.” He looked up and smiled, like a little boy proud to have correctly answered a teacher’s question.
Another portion of Joan’s anger vanished. There was something about this guy, a kind of Lost Boy quality that she found endearing, despite herself. He wasn’t much in the looks department, and the overlarge glasses he wore made him look a little dorky, but he had that boyish thing going for him, along with something else she couldn’t pin down. A bit of mystery, she decided. As if there were more to him than first met the eye. She wanted to say What are you doing on my property? But she softened the question.
“And what are you doing in the neighborhood today, Mr. Benecke?”
He gave another quick glance at his clipboard. “We’ve had a few reports of meters in your area giving incorrect readings, and we want to make sure they’re calibrated correctly. You don’t want us overcharging you, right?” He rushed through his explanation, as if he were nervous.
Joan thought it was kind of cute.
“Have you checked ours yet?” she asked.
“Hmm? Oh. Yes, I have. It’s fine.”
“Good to hear.”
She smiled at him. He smiled back. Neither spoke for several moments and Joan found herself becoming uncomfortable.
“So I suppose you’ll be heading on to the next house?” she asked.
He blinked several times, almost as if she’d woken him from a trance.
“Huh? Oh, right. Moving on.”
He glanced toward her mailbox and then looked back on her.
“Have a nice day, Mrs. Lantz.”
“Thanks. You too.”
He gave her a departing nod and then started heading for the house next door—but not before giving her mailbox a final look.
Weird.
CHAPTER 5
Kevin walked around the back of the house next door to the Lantzes’. This one had a large wooden privacy fence, and he lifted the latch on the gate, opened the door, and entered the yard. He hated wasting time like this, but with Joan still standing in her front yard, he couldn’t very well haul ass down the sidewalk after Olivia and the mail carrier. He had to make sure he didn’t arouse Joan’s suspicions. Any more than he already had, that is. She’d caught him so off guard—not so much by her early arrival home as by her combative attitude as she exited her car—that he’d barely been able to get out his cover story. He’d sounded like a babbling idiot to his own ears, and he hated to think what he’d sounded like to the Analysts.
Once he was in the neighbors’ yard and the fence hid him from view, he waited until he heard Joan pull her car into the garage and close the door. He then left the neighbors’ backyard and hurried across their front lawn, jogging in the direction Olivia and the mail carrier had gone. He wished he’d had time to get a look at the envelope the carrier had dropped off at the Lantzes’. He knew Deanna would chastise him for that failure later. She also wouldn’t be happy that he’d spoken with Joan. Having direct contact with a surveillance subject—especially so early in an investigation—was strictly forbidden, but he was cautiously optimistic that Deanna would recognize the encounter as an accident and not come down too hard on him for it.
But he wasn’t sorry that Joan had come home when she did. She was an attractive woman—not gorgeous, but pretty. And she had a certain quality about her, a kind of sadness blended with great strength, which he found intriguing. But he didn’t have time to think about Joan right now. He had work to do.
He didn’t bother pretending to talk on his phone this time when he called out to Olivia.
“Olivia? Are you there? Are you all right? What’s your situation?”
“Stop asking so many questions.” She said this with the slightest hint of irritation. “Turn right at the next cross street you come to.”
Kevin could see the street she was talking about. He was winded by the time he reached it, and he wondered if maybe he should start subscribing to Maintenance’s underconsumption ethos and lose a few pounds, maybe hit the gym a couple times a week too.
&
nbsp; He glanced at the street sign on the corner as he approached it and saw this was Evergreen Street. What was it with all the plant names around here? Hollyhock, Evergreen… You’d think people would have a bit more imagination.
He rounded the corner and stopped when he saw the surveillance van sitting in the middle of the street, engine still running. Fifty feet in front of the van stood the mail carrier. He faced the vehicle, arms at his sides, pouch still slung over his shoulder, creepy smile still plastered on his face. Despite the adrenaline surging through his system—or perhaps because of it—a great wave of exhaustion slammed into Kevin, as much mental as physical. It had been over twenty-four hours since he’d slept, and in the interim he’d witnessed his dead partner being mutilated by an insane old man. He desperately needed rest, and he felt as if he could just lie down on the sidewalk, go to sleep right here, and let Olivia deal with this situation on her own. But he couldn’t do that, and not only because the Analysts were watching. He’d lost Barry, and although he didn’t especially like Olivia, he didn’t intend to lose her too. So even though it violated procedure, he stepped into the street and started walking toward the carrier.
The man’s head swiveled smoothly on his neck as he turned to look at him. Kevin could see that not only didn’t the man blink, his eyes were so lifeless that they almost looked painted on.
“You can’t do this,” Olivia said, an edge of panic in her voice. “Not only is direct confrontation forbidden except in emergencies, it’s daylight and this is a populated area. There are bound to be witnesses.”
Kevin ignored her as he drew closer to the carrier. It was likely a combination of weariness and stress, but at that moment he didn’t give a shit about procedure. And if he ended up getting demoted, so be it.
When Kevin reached the carrier, he said, “Would you mind stepping out of the street? My friend would like to pass.” He gestured toward the van, but the carrier didn’t take his gaze off Kevin. The man didn’t reply. He just kept looking at Kevin and smiling that frozen smile of his.
Kevin didn’t have a weapon. Surveyors were discouraged from carrying them. The thinking was that if they were permitted to use weapons, they would be more inclined to engage subjects instead of merely monitor them. But right then, standing within arm’s reach of something that only bore a passing resemblance to human, Kevin wished he had a gun. A very large gun.
Then again, he did have something else.
With a swift, sure motion he swept his clipboard through the air and smacked it across the lower half of the carrier’s face. The board made a meaty thwak when it struck, and the man’s head swung to the side. At first Kevin was gratified. Take that, you smiling fucker! But his excitement gave way to surprise and then horror as he watched the man’s head spin all the way around until it was facing backward. Then it wobbled, detached from the neck, and fell to the street. It bounced, rolled, and then came to a stop, eyes still open and unblinking, smile still firmly in place.
This isn’t good, Kevin thought.
The headless body remained upright and motionless, but instead of moving closer to inspect it, Kevin took a step backward. It was a good thing he did, for an instant later the carrier’s body began to shake and then split apart. A ragged seam appeared at the neck and moved downward as it widened. The carrier’s shirt tore open, buttons flying, several hitting Kevin and bouncing off. With the carrier’s shirt now open, Kevin could see the seam extended down his torso and past his belt. The seam—which had become more of a fissure—continued to widen, making a series of cracking sounds like breaking ice as it did. No blood poured forth from the fissure, and no internal organs spilled forth. Kevin saw only blackness within the carrier’s body, and this terrified him far more than any gore or viscera ever could. He started to back away from the body slowly, then figured fuck it, turned, and ran toward the van.
“That’s the first smart thing you’ve done all day,” Olivia said.
She popped open the door for him, and he climbed into the passenger seat and slammed the door shut behind him.
“What the hell is that thing?” he said. At least, that was what he wanted to say. But he was so out of breath, his words emerged as a series of wheezes.
Olivia understood him, though, for she said, “I think we’re about to find out.”
He heard two voices, one through his glasses via the pair she wore, and one coming from her mouth. The voices weren’t quite in sync, and he found the effect a bit disorienting. She’d forgotten to turn off her glasses’ transmitter once he’d gotten into the van, but he didn’t blame her. She had other things on her mind, emphasis on thing.
He looked out the windshield in time to see the carrier’s body split apart and fall to the asphalt, revealing something that had been hiding within. At first it seemed to be nothing but a shadowy mass of darkness, roughly human-shaped. But then segmented limbs began unfolding from the form, and the creature stretched them out as if they were stiff from too long a confinement. It was glossy black, like lacquered obsidian, and when it fell forward onto its six legs, Kevin saw that it was the size of a large wolf. Its blunt squarish head terminated in a pair of large, wicked-looking mandibles, and it had had no eyes, at least none that were readily apparent. Its back was a domed shell, and Kevin wondered if wings were concealed within.
Please don’t let it have wings, he thought.
“It’s a Durg,” Olivia said with a measure of actual excitement. “I’ve heard of them but never seen one before. I thought they couldn’t exist on this level of reality.”
Kevin had no idea what she was talking about and right then he didn’t care.
“We need to get out of here,” he said. “The Analysts are watching a live feed, so they’ve already dispatched an Intervention Team.”
“It might get away.” Oliva seemed to consider for several seconds, and then she took her foot off the brake and tromped on the gas.
The van didn’t have the greatest pickup in the world, but it lurched forward and Olivia headed straight for the Durg. Kevin hadn’t put on his seat belt yet, so he slapped his palms to the dash to brace himself.
“Are you insane?” he shouted.
Olivia didn’t have time to respond, but even if she had, the question was rhetorical. Kevin was absolutely convinced she’d lost her mind. If she was a robot, maybe she was suffering from some kind of glitch in her programming. She clearly intended to run down the large insect and most likely collect the corpse and return it to Maintenance’s Ash Creek headquarters for examination—especially if the Durg was as rare as she’d implied. But the Durg didn’t intend to remain still and allow itself to be squashed. As the van bore down on it, the creature leaped into the air and landed on the windshield, its legs grabbing hold of the vehicle’s roof and sides so it could hold on. Its mandibles snapped as it attempted to break through the glass and get at the tender human morsels on the other side. The mandibles made an unsettling, almost metallic sound as they opened and closed. Clack-clack-clack-clack-clack…
“Nice move, Olivia!” he shouted.
“Shut up,” she said, soundly only mildly annoyed. She activated the van’s wipers, but the Durg tore them from their mounts and tossed them aside.
“Really?” Kevin said.
Olivia ignored him.
She didn’t have much visibility, but the Durg kept shifting its position, as if trying to find a weak spot on the windshield. This provided her enough glimpses of the street ahead to help her avoid running into parked cars or driving onto someone’s lawn. But it was only a matter of time before they hit something. And in the meantime, they were driving through the neighborhood with a gigantic and apparently other-dimensional insect attached to their van. So much for remaining inconspicuous.
“I’m beginning to see why your last partner got killed,” he muttered.
Olivia responded with the first real show of emotion he’d seen from her.
“Stop bitching at me and do something!”
Do? Kevin d
idn’t think of himself as a doer, but Olivia had her hands full, and there was no one else in the van, so he supposed he should at least try. But damn it, where the hell was that Intervention Team?
He got out of his seat and made his way to the van’s workstations. This was a surveillance vehicle, and there wasn’t anything even remotely resembling a weapon aboard. Tables, chairs, laptops, two-drawer filing cabinets—all bolted down to prevent them from moving. Fluorescent light strips in the ceiling, no windows. Then his eyes fell upon the fire extinguisher attached to the wall.
That’ll do, he thought.
He pulled the extinguisher from its wall mount and returned to his seat, working to keep his balance as the van swayed. Just as he was about to sit, Olivia shouted, “Watch out! Corner!”
He threw himself into his seat as she rounded the corner without stopping, and while he was tossed around a bit, he managed to grab hold of an armrest with his free hand and keep himself from being dumped onto the floor.
The Durg still held tight to the front of the van, and its mandibles continued clack-clack-clack-ing away at the glass. It had made some progress during the brief time Kevin had been gone, and now several cracks cut through the windshield. So far the glass still held together, but Kevin knew they didn’t have much time left. While he’d been getting the extinguisher, he’d more than half hoped the Intervention Team would show up and take care of the Durg for them. But no such luck.