From the inside of his leather jacket, Cole pulled out his .357. "Nothing's stopping me from getting back here." He turned and headed away.
Derek listened to the rustle of forest debris as his brother disappeared between two trees and headed up toward the car. He heard the rumble of the Charger's engine a few minutes later and listened to it as it drove away. The sound kept fading, slowly, and then he was left in silence, save for the sound of a woodpecker knocking its beak into a tree somewhere. He welcomed the noise.
The first thing he did was look for one of the razors and a bottle of shaving gel from inside the tent. Even though he was miles from anywhere, he decided changing his appearance was best. He found the bag of razors and shaving cream, took one of each and a small mirror, lathered up his face, and removed his thick mutton chops. Along with letting his hair grow in, he'd look much different soon enough. He'd loved his chops, the things practically a beard, and would grow it back when they got to where they were heading.
After that, he thought about grabbing a beer, needing to wash away some of the drag-ass he was feeling from his hangover but decided it was best to save the drinking for nighttime. Instead, he made a cup of instant coffee, grabbed one of the fishing poles, the radio and a folding chair, and headed over to the lake.
He used his knife to dig up a few worms. After spearing one onto the hook, he tossed in the line and relaxed.
At least he tried to.
Sitting back in the chair, sipping his coffee, he let the morning rays soak into his skin, but his thoughts kept returning to the robbery and all the cops that were most likely looking for them. Yeah, they were four hours from Helena, but that was nothing. The feds would have the entire Midwestern United States under surveillance. If they knew who they were, their faces would be plastered on every news broadcast across the country. Brazen bank robberies were always of public interest. And the government hated losing money, even if it was something as minuscule as what they had taken. But hell, a woman was dead. They were going to be considered armed and dangerous. Lock your doors folks, the outlaws are coming.
If they had been found out and were being hunted, it would be much tougher to leave the country. Cole had a plan, but Derek wasn't so sure it had included the possibility of them being discovered.
Unable to enjoy the silence, the fish not biting yet, he listened to the static-filled radio for the next couple hours and then it happened. "The suspect identified as Dirk Scopal died while in surgery."
Died. As in dead. Dirk was dead.
The words were like music to Derek's ears. He jumped out of his chair and let the pole fall to the ground. "Woo hoo," he hollered and pumped his fist in the air. Then he calmed a bit. Shit, they knew Dirk's name. That meant they were going to check all the people he hung around with. Screw it, that didn't mean squat. Neither he nor Cole had been seen around town. People would say they left a while ago. Sure, the feds might look for them, but they wouldn't find them. They were in the clear. As long as he and Cole stuck to their story, if they were questioned at some point, they'd be fine.
Derek turned off the radio. No point in wasting the batteries now. He'd listen later or hear more from Cole when his brother returned.
He was glad Dirk was dead. Fuck him. The guy was crazy. He could've ruined everything.
Feeling giddy, he paced the area. He wanted to celebrate, but didn't know how. He wished Cole was with him. Screw that, he wished his girl was at his side. He'd pick her up, spin her around and take her right there and then. Bang her real good. She could scream his name all she wanted and no one would hear. Damn, thinking about getting laid brought his spirits down a little. He wasn't going to dip his dick in anything but his hand for some time. He was going to be stuck in the woods until his balls exploded. And he had no jerking off material. Double shit. He needed to call Cole and tell him to pick up a couple nudie magazines. Hell, maybe in a week or two, they might be able to venture to some back alley biker bar and pick up a whore. Nah, Cole would never go for it. It was going to be palm and picture for quite a while.
Derek pulled out the cell phone Cole had given him and found no signal bars. Shit, he hadn't thought about that. The damn things were probably going to be useless out here. He walked around the immediate area, holding up the cell phone, and saw a bar appear for a second before it vanished. This gave him hope.
He headed up the hill to the road, thinking higher ground and an unobstructed path might help. He saw a signal bar flash onto the screen at times, but never for more than a second. But when he walked over to the edge of the cliff, the phone held a signal.
He dialed Cole, but the call dropped out. The second time was no better, the reception there, but shitty. The third time he managed to get through, but he could barely understand Cole's responses to his asking him to pick up a couple porno magazines. He heard Cole yelling and sounding pissed. He decided not to call his brother again and hoped his message got through.
He shoved the phone into his pants pocket and went back to the lake. He thought about turning it off, but didn't, just in case Cole called. He could charge the cell phone's battery in the car later or at the tent using the car battery. Cole had thought of everything. When the battery at camp went low, he'd swap out the one in the Charger, use that at camp and charge up the dead one. Well, he'd thought of everything except better food containers.
Sitting in his chair, he reeled in the line and saw that the worm was gone. He hooked another one on and cast again. So far, he'd not had a single bite. Thirty minutes later, still nothing. He was starting to wonder if the lake was lifeless, maybe only a natural spring where the water wasn't suitable for fish or frogs or turtles, since he'd seen none. Or maybe it was full of sulfur. He didn't know if there were such things, but guessed it was possible, like a hot spring. He didn't see steam rising off the water and when he put his hand into it, it was cool. He stared at the water, realizing something for the first time. It was extremely clear. He could see the mucky bottom for quite a distance. So maybe the lake was the pooling of a natural spring.
He remembered how the forest had been incredibly quiet last night. No frogs croaking or crickets chirping. No animal cries at all. Nothing. He'd been a bit unnerved by the silence, but talking with Cole and being drunk had made him forget all about it. Now he knew why. The lack of fish was bad for them, but the lack of bacteria and other shit was good. They would have better drinking water for sure.
But the first worm he'd hooked had gone missing. It could have come loose and slid off, but most likely it was because something—a fish or turtle—had snatched it. Maybe the small lake simply had a very low population of aquatic life.
With the sun beating down and a cool breeze wafting over him, he sat back, keeping a grip on the fishing pole, and dozed off without meaning to.
He awoke with a snort and sat up. The fishing pole was resting on the ground beside him, the thing having fallen some time while he slept. He didn't know how long he'd been out, but it couldn't have been too long. The sun was not far from where it had been when he had fallen asleep. But his skin was lined with sweat. He hadn't showered in a while. The cabin where he and Cole had been staying for the month before the robbery didn't have running water. They'd had to use bottled water and washcloths to clean themselves.
Derek reeled in the line and saw that the worm was gone. Again. "Damn it," he said. "Sneaky sons of bitches." He threw the fishing pole down. Next time he hooked a fish, he was staying awake and yanking in the bastard that was eating his bait.
Sweaty, he decided to go for a swim. The water was too enticing not to. He'd seen pictures of blue and green Caribbean water, and while this was not that, it was clear and appeared clean. Not that it would've mattered. He'd swum in algae infested ponds before. And out here, no one would've tainted the lake. It looked clean because it was clean. Derek stripped down to his birthday suit and dove in.
CHAPTER 5
The last of the three newly created organisms was almost dead, now no lar
ger than a dime. The smaller it became, the faster it deteriorated. There had been so much life in the water. Now the lake was lifeless, except for itself. All the algae, bugs, fish, frogs, snakes and turtles were gone. There was nothing left for it to consume. It needed a host that could sustain it. All of its combined DNA had gone into effect, teaching it and allowing it to act as its constituted parts permitted. But the sun, combined with the weak species, wasn't permitting it to live long. It was going to die before it truly lived.
Then it saw movement. A creature different from those of the lake. The thing came near the shore, but never entered the water. If it was capable of salivating, it would have. It hungered for the predator that walked on two legs.
The newly created organism wasn't strong enough to crawl upon land and attack the much larger creature. Remaining in the water was the only thing prolonging its existence.
But then something amazing happened. Food was offered to it. A small amount, a land creature filled with nutrients and new DNA. It ate the worm quickly, and then a short time later, another was given to it. New energy flowed through the organism and it grew to the size of a quarter.
The new food wasn't going to be enough though. It needed out of the water, the lake like a prison. It needed to be among the land dwellers. There were many, many more like its last meal.
It floated on the surface near the two-legged creature, the thing just out of its grasp. It was starving. Simply ravenous.
As it continued to die, growing smaller again, the worms only sustaining it so much, the large land creature entered the water. It came into contact with the being's groin, where a mound of pubic hair sprouted, and managed to attach itself to a couple of strands. From there, it slid among the curly hairs and made it to the soft flesh and held on for dear life.
CHAPTER 6
Derek came out of the water feeling refreshed. His feet were a bit grimy, caked with mud, but he wiped them off on the grass and then picked out the dirt under his toenails using his knife. It felt odd, as if he were dreaming. Standing in the forest completely naked, like he was Adam and needed to find his Eve. He'd never done such a thing and the longer he stood there naked, the more uncomfortable he grew.
"This naked shit ain't for me," he mumbled and quickly got dressed, letting his clothing dry him. He picked up his fishing pole and chair and headed back to camp.
He looked through some boxes, crates and bags hoping to find something to do. The board games were useless without his brother. Truth be told, he did love a good game of Monopoly.
Music. He could definitely listen to some tunes. That would help the eerie feeling of isolation he was experiencing.
The radio couldn't pick up any FM stations and he had none of his CDs or a CD player for that matter, but he had his iPod. It was an old iPod that he'd stolen from a pimple-faced teenager at a diner back in Helena a few years ago, but it worked just fine.
He thought about getting a fire going, then angrily stopped his foot at remembering what his brother had said.
Derek loved camp fires. They always made camping better. For some unknown reason, they gave him the sense of security and made the camp seem more alive. Sitting there, in the middle of nowhere, was starting to get to him.
He went inside the tent, grabbed his .45—in the event unwelcome wildlife or a park ranger showed up, he wanted it at his side—and his iPod. He laid on his sleeping bag and put in his earbuds, then hit play on his mixed selection of heavy metal. He was still hung over and could use the extra rest. Besides, there wasn't much else to do, and if he didn't sleep, he would wind up drinking beer.
He couldn't shake the unnerving feeling running through him. He wasn't a pussy, but he wanted Cole to get back as soon as possible. If Cole got busted, things were going to get a lot tougher. And he loved his brother. No way he wanted to see him locked away for the rest of his life.
Sleep was always the best option for passing the time, dealing with unwanted emotions and staying out of trouble. As the music flowed, sleep came on and Derek dozed off.
As Derek slept, the free-form organism moved through the jungle of tangled pubic hair. It took its time, not wanting to be discovered and needing to conserve its energy. It had already tasted his flesh, absorbing minute pieces into itself. The nutritional value and DNA of this new species was extraordinary.
Like a gelatinous ooze, it traveled along his ball sac and then to the beginning of his shaft, millimeter by millimeter. Derek squirmed in his sleep and scratched at the area, crushing and smearing the organism over his flesh and jeans. It remained alive, pulled itself together like something on a reverse-time lapsed video, and continued onward. It left a slightly discolored trail along the man's genitals as it absorbed the top later of cells, its hunger ravenous but controlled.
It moved up the shaft, the skin incredibly soft if not a bit bumpy. It crossed a pustule and sucked out the infection, then continued onward. It reached the mushroom-like head and then the urethra's hole, and slipped inside. It went farther up the flesh-lined tunnel and entered the host's intestinal area, where it began to feed, grow and spread.
CHAPTER 7
The four New Yorkers had been hiking for hours.
Despite his athletic physique, Tyler Patel, a well-groomed, handsome Indian man, kept stumbling over downed branches and uneven ground. He was a Wall Street man all the way—expensive suits, gourmet dinners, vacations in exotic places, and the only time he saw nature was when he went to Central Park.
His girlfriend, Kim Mathers, who also came from money, and was one of the up and coming dress designers in Manhattan, had been looking forward to the trip. Even more so when they left the marked hiking trail in favor of being more adventurous. Her jovial mood hadn't lasted long though due to the uneven ground and the plethora of branches that tugged at her clothes and marked up her fair skin. Edgar and June were their usual selves when outdoors—happy and upbeat.
Edgar Vargas and June Chan were engaged, had been for six months after dating for nearly five years. Edgar was a thin man. He had a neatly trimmed beard that was completely out of place with his thick, wavy hair. He wore black-rimmed glasses and almost always wore plaid button downs, slim fitting jeans, and Converse sneakers. June was a pretty Asian woman with long curly red-dyed hair, who loved nature, taking pictures, and painting. Unlike the others, who were wearing cargo shorts and T-shirts, June wore a knee-length dress—her usual attire—embroidered with yellow daisies. She was the embodiment of the term ‘free spirit.’
"Man, I thought leaving the trail would be fun," Kim said, pulling the scrunchie from her ponytail and letting her long brown silky hair explode over her shoulders. She shook her head, ran her fingers through the strands, and then pulled her hair back into a ponytail again.
"It is," Edgar said. "We just hit a rough spot."
Up until a few minutes ago, the area they were traveling in had been easy to transverse. Now it was as if the brush was trying to keep them from going farther, the shrubs and trees growing closer together and the ground becoming more uneven and rocky. The gnats and mosquitoes biting, everyone but Tyler swatting at themselves until June broke out with some kind of natural bug repellent bar that looked like a block of Irish Spring soap. She rubbed it across her exposed areas before Edgar took it and did the same thing to himself. When he was done, he offered it to Kim.
"No thanks," she said, holding out her hand in a stop right there gesture.
"You're going to get eaten up alive," Edgar said.
"I can't," Kim said. "Not after you both just rubbed it over your dirty, sweaty skin." She looked to June, who rolled her eyes. "Do you have another bar?"
"Nope," June said, shaking her head. "That one should last us for the duration of our trip."
"If there were showers where we were going, I might try some, but since there's not . . ."
"Suit yourself," Edgar said.
"Tyler?" Edgar said, offering the bug bar.
"I'm good," Tyler said. "Mosquitoes don't seem to l
ike my blood."
The group moved on.
The bitching and moaning from Kim grew worse as the hours passed. Tyler, too, looked unhappy, as if he would rather be anywhere else. June tried to keep up the good vibes by singing stupid songs and making jokes. They also took a number of short breaks. June kept snapping pictures of everyone during those times, saying how great the memories of their adventure would be.
Just as they set out from one of their stops, Edgar said, "Hey look," and pointed at a mound of what looked like mud.
June lifted her camera up and snapped a photo.
"What is it?" Kim asked.
"Bear shit," June said.
"Say what?" Kim said.
"Bear?" Tyler asked. "Are you fucking kidding me?"
"Relax," June said. "We're good. We've been making plenty of noise. As long as we don't surprise it, it'll hear us and run off."
"Oh, I didn't know you were a bear expert," Tyler said.
"It's standard practice when you're in the woods," Edgar said. "Why do think we haven't told you two to shut the hell up with all your bitching?"
June laughed.
"Ha, ha," Kim said, nervously.
They had all been informed of the various wildlife in the area, including bears, but neither Tyler nor Kim had considered that they'd actually run into one.
"That shit looks pretty fresh," Tyler said.
June looked at him and nodded. "It is."
"So, as long as we make noise, we'll be okay?" Kim asked, standing closer to Tyler.
"Should be," Edgar said, and began hiking again.
"What do you mean 'should be’?" Tyler groaned.
"I'm just messing with you, man," Edgar said.
"Bears run from people."
As much as Kim was complaining, she was having fun. She was a natural complainer at times, because things could only get better if she started out thinking the worst. Glass half empty. She thought Tyler was going to protest them going on, that they should head back and stick to the marked trails, but he didn't. She was nervous, too, more so than ever. But she trusted her friends—the woods people, as she thought of them. And she appreciated that Tyler was being a good sport. He'd said before they left for the trip that he was going to be there for her, do what she wanted and not complain about being outdoors. She knew how much he loved her and wanted her to have a good time.
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