Nasty Little F___ers-Kindle

by McAfee, David

  The tangy smell of sweat mingled with the smells of trees and soil. Colby checked his watch. Almost noon. They’d been walking for over four hours. His shirt was soaked through. Both he and Edison had long ago shed themselves of all but an undershirt, and now Colby pulled his off and slung it over his shoulder. He’d probably get bitten by a hundred mosquitoes in the humid, sticky July forest, but it was worth it to feel even the slightest breeze on his skin.

  Edison noticed, and took his last shirt off, as well. Colby looked over at Janice, and couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for her. She not only kept her T-shirt on, but she still wore her long sleeve, khaki-colored blouse, though both were soaked through with sweat. He knew she wouldn’t remove the T-shirt, but the blouse? She must be dying under all that material.

  “Let’s take a break, guys,” he said, more for her benefit than anything else.

  Edison nodded and plopped down next to the pale white trunk of a birch. He grunted, pulled out his canteen, and unscrewed the top.

  Colby caught Janice glaring at him. If he didn’t know better he’d have thought she was mad at him for stopping. Crazy! But soon she, too, settled her back to the trunk of a tree and pulled out her own canteen. She lifted it to her lips and took a long pull, then screwed the cap back on, leaned back against the tree, and shut her eyes. Colby got the message; she wanted to be left alone.

  He squatted next to Edison, whose breathing was just starting to even out.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  Edison nodded. “We… I used to hike at Mount Blue every summer,” his eyes darted toward Janice, then back to Colby, “but it wasn’t anything like this.”

  Colby laughed. “No, I guess not.” Mount Blue was a nice little campground down in southern Maine, off Route 4. He’d been there a time or two. Nice lake, showers, canoe and kayak rentals, and of course, hiking trails. Some of the trails were pretty intense, too, but hiking along an established trail, even a rough one, is nothing compared to beating your way through unspoiled forest. Colby would give anything to be on a Mount Blue trail right now; even The Chimney would be preferable.

  “At least the bugs are the same,” he said.

  Edison laughed. “Bastards sure are hungry today.”

  “It’s the sweat,” Colby replied. “They smell it and it brings them running.”

  Edison nodded. Hell, Colby thought, Edison probably knew that already.

  “We should probably eat something while we’re stopped,” Colby said. “It’s lunch time, anyway.”

  All three reached into their bags and pulled out some food. Some leftover bacon from the morning’s breakfast and a handful of biscuits. All of them had bags of jerky, too, but it would be best to eat the bacon first since it was the most likely to spoil. Colby pulled out a bag with half a dozen strips of bacon and popped a piece into his mouth, then washed the salty meat down with another swig of lukewarm water.

  They ate in silence. Colby thought about their direction; they’d been heading due east ever since they left camp. By his estimate they’d gone maybe eight or ten miles. Not that far out here, and not far enough to get a signal on his cell phone. He hoped they would be in range soon, but at a speed of two miles per hour he doubted it would happen before noon the next day, at the earliest.

  Northern Maine is a sparsely populated wilderness; and cell phone towers would be few and far between. But they just needed a weak signal, something they could use to make a call. His phone had a GPS locator, so a rescue team shouldn’t have much trouble finding them. Of course, no one would even be looking for them until they got near a tower. Unless they died out here, then next week when the supply chopper showed up and found the camp empty they would probably start looking.

  Of course, by then Colby, Edison, and Janice would be scattered around the forests as various piles of fertilizer. It’d be a miracle if the search party ever located some of their bones. Colby shook his head, he wouldn’t bet on that.

  Wolves, coyotes, bears, or even a mountain lion would probably feast on their bodies while the searchers looked everywhere. Colby made every effort to mark their trail, but that didn’t mean anything. If only they’d brought some spray paint, then they could have left a clear trail for the team to follow.

  Even then, the trail would most likely lead to their bodies unless they could pick up a fucking signal.

  “What’s wrong?” Janice asked. Colby turned and found her staring at him.

  “What?” he asked.

  “You aren’t eating.” She pointed to the half eaten strip of bacon in his hand. She and Edison had both already eaten their lunches and were, apparently, just waiting for him.

  “Nothing,” he said, and shoved the rest of the bacon in his mouth. This morning it was delicious, but now it tasted like cardboard. “We should get going.”

  Edison stared at him for a few seconds, then nodded. By the expression on his face, Colby knew the man suspected something wasn’t right, but he didn’t ask. Colby could have hugged him for that. Janice shouldered her pack and waited, hands on hips, for the two men to be ready.

  “I have to use the facilities,” Edison said as Colby started to pack his gear. He walked out into the woods and disappeared into the trees.

  “Don’t go too far,” he warned. “We don’t know who, or what, might be out there.”

  Edison didn’t respond, and Colby went back to repacking his bag. Edison should be okay; he still had the pistol, after all. If any of the Grub Zombies, as Edison called them, came after him he could shoot them. Colby reached behind him and felt the stock of the rifle, drawing reassurance from its presence.

  “How much farther, do you think?” Janice asked, placing her hands on his shoulders. Colby, remembering his conversation with Edison, shrugged away from her touch, but tried to mask it by pointing at his phone. He couldn’t tell if she bought it or not, but the last thing he wanted right now was a reminder that she’d be gone soon.

  “We just need to get close enough to get a signal,” he said.

  “But how far will that be?”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe another ten miles, maybe twenty. There’s no way to know for sure.”

  “You mean we could be walking out here for days?” Janice’s forehead crinkled in a frown.

  Colby nodded. She was starting to understand.

  “We might not make it out,” Janice said. “That’s what you’re not telling me, isn’t it?”

  Colby didn’t answer. He couldn’t bring himself to admit the truth. They were probably going to die out here.

  Janice stepped closer to him, reaching out her hand to his cheek. Colby stepped back, mindful of Edison nearby. Edison wasn’t a bad guy, not once you got to know him. And he’d be damned if he let the guy hurt any more on his account.

  “What’s wrong?” Janice asked, confusion evident on her face.

  “Nothing,” Colby replied. “I just don’t think this is the best time.” He glanced over his shoulder, looking for Edison.

  Janice grabbed his chin and turned his head back to face her. She looked over his shoulder to the woods where Edison had gone, then back to Colby. She folded her arms over her chest and glared at him. Her frown deepened. Even mad, she was beautiful. “What did he tell you?”

  “I—”

  Edison’s scream cut him short.

  ***

  Moretz and Allen walked along, paralleling Sarge’s group, while Bock and Steinman shuffled along behind and dripped bits of themselves onto the forest floor. The two could barely walk, and Moretz wondered how much longer they would be useful. Sooner or later an arm would fall off, or a leg, or a foot. Then what? The body would just fall while the grubs continued to feast, he supposed, but that wouldn’t do him or Allen any good. If only the grubs didn’t eat so damn fast.

  It’s not their fault, he told himself. They’re just hungry. He could relate. The grubs were ravenous, but then, they had an upcoming transformation to support, and they’d need all the energy and raw materials they co
uld get. It’s not easy to metamorphose on an empty stomach, he supposed.

  The sound of screaming brought him up short, and Allen bumped into him from behind.

  “Hey,” Allen began. Then he stopped and cocked his head. He must hear, it too.

  “That sounds like Edison,” Allen said.

  Moretz nodded, wondering what Sarge was doing to the man to make him scream so much. The son of a bitch was going to pay for it whatever it was.

  A shot rang out, loud and sudden in the otherwise still air of the woods. Then another. Finally a third shot, and then the screaming stopped.

  Moretz and Allen looked at each other. Allen’s features drew into a frown.

  “He killed him,” Allen said.

  Moretz nodded. “Sounds like it.”

  “Did we need him?”

  Moretz thought about that for a moment. Edison was a scientist, sure, but his field was mostly in computers and equipment. For them to succeed, they needed more of the natural sciences, like Allen’s entomology and Janice’s knowledge of botany. Would they really need Edison when the grubs hatched from their pupae?

  “No,” he said. “No, probably not.”

  “Good,” Allen said. Moretz had to agree.

  “At least it’ll give us another body for the time being,” Moretz added, pointing behind them at their two dead comrades. Steinman listed hard to the right, it was only a matter of time before he fell over completely and never rose again. Bock was bigger, with more mass and muscle; it would take a few more hours before his body passed the point of uselessness. By then they would have Sarge and Janice in their group anyway and it wouldn’t matter.

  “You don’t think they’ll try and take the body with them?”

  “Not a chance,” Moretz replied. “Edison might not be as big as Sarge, but that’s still a lot of extra weight to carry. They’re in survival mode now; they’ll leave his body for the scavengers.”

  Allen looked in the direction the scream had come from and smiled. “Well, then, let’s go scavenge it.”

  They turned in the jungle, heading toward the place where Edison’s body should be waiting for them, along with however many holes Sarge put in it. Before they went ten steps Steinman fell into the undergrowth. Moretz turned to look and saw the man’s whole right leg had been reduced to bone and a few stringy tissues, which the grubs chewed with abandon. The rest of his body was only slightly better off, as the grubs feasted on any flesh they could find: organs, skin, ligaments, everything. The little guys didn’t waste a thing.

  They weren’t especially little anymore, of course. The more they ate, the bigger they got. When Moretz had first seen the grubs in Allen’s tent, they’d been about an inch and a half long. Over the course of feeding, they’d grown to over three inches long and half an inch wide. Easily the biggest larvae he’d ever seen, and Bock and Steinman were covered in the things. Covered! No wonder Steinman fell; there just wasn’t enough of his body left to keep moving.

  Not all the grubs grew so huge, Moretz knew. The one on his back remained its original size. Allen’s too. He wasn’t sure why, but they weren’t eating him.

  One particularly fat grub poked its little red face out of the hole Bock’s bullet had made in Steinman’s chest. It wriggled its pudgy body out and proceeded to chew on the flesh around the sternum, which was both visible and cracked. Along the grub’s body the off white color of it’s swollen flesh was tinted red from Steinman’s blood, giving it a swirled appearance: white marrying red and blending together to form a pattern not unlike that of a tie-dyed shirt.

  Beautiful. Moretz felt moisture building in his left eye.

  “Will they be okay?” he asked Allen.

  Allen nodded. “They’ll be fine. There’s still enough of Steinman left to get them where they need to be. By this time tomorrow they’ll all be pupae.”

  “Good.” Moretz couldn’t help but smile.

  Then he, Allen, and Bock all set off down the path to pick up Edison. One other good thing about Edison’s death; there was now only Sarge and Janice to deal with, and that made the odds even better.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Colby sprinted through the trees, dodging trunks and low-hanging branches along the way. He unshouldered his rifle and slid the bolt into place, then put his thumb on the safety, ready to disengage it at a moment’s notice. He heard Janice running somewhere behind him, but he couldn’t slow down to wait for her. Another member of the group was in trouble and he had to do something to help.

  Then he heard a noise up ahead. A low, rumbling sound that took him a moment to recognize. A growl. An animal’s growl. A bear, maybe? Or a wolf? He couldn’t tell, but most gray wolves, and even bears, will usually give humans a wide berth. Unfamiliar prey makes them uneasy, unless they are especially hungry or their young are in danger. But Colby hadn’t seen any signs of bear or wolf. Of course, that meant precisely dick. Thick as the woods were, he could have walked right by a sign that said ‘Look Out For Bears’ and never known it was there.

  Colby rounded a small grove of birches and skidded to a stop.

  His first thought was That’s no bear. His second was more mundane, something more akin to Holy Shit!

  Something huge, tan, and furry swatted at a bloody bundle of clothes and rags that had to be Edison. Muffled cries and grunts of pain came from the bundle, but they were weak. The thing lifted its head, then dove it back toward Edison’s face. Colby caught a glimpse of sharp teeth, pointy ears, and a snout full of whiskers.

  A mountain lion. Are you kidding me? A mother-fucking mountain lion?

  Edison still had a little fight left, and somehow managed to keep the thing from wrapping its jaws around his throat. But shock and multiple wounds from teeth and claws were clearly taking their toll as his hands slowed and his cries lowered in volume. He didn’t have a lot of time left.

  Colby raised the rifle and sighted down the barrel at the giant cat’s back, not wanting to risk hitting Edison. A shot in the back wouldn’t kill the cat, but it would certainly get its attention. If the mountain lion turned around and took even a second or two to assess the situation, it would give Colby enough time to put another slug into it, hopefully in its throat or eye.

  He pulled the trigger, and the shot rang through the forest like thunder, followed almost immediately by the solid thump of the bullet as it tore into the big cat’s back, sending up a small spray of blood and fur.

  The effect was instantaneous. The lion jumped off Edison and landed in a crouch five or so feet away, facing the new threat. It took a moment to analyze Colby, which he used to slide the bolt back and chamber another round. As the hot casing from the old round popped into the air from the rifle’s breech, the lion roared and tamped down on its haunches, ready to spring.

  Colby fired another round, right into the lion’s mouth. The cat’s head exploded in a cloud of blood, fur, and bone fragments, sending a little of each into the air and showering Edison’s prone body with viscera and gore. The mountain lion slumped and fell over on its side, its tail twitching in spasms, having not yet received the memo from what was left of its brain that it was dead.

  Colby stepped over to Edison and knelt in the damp earth. Right away he could see it was bad. Edison would never make it. The leafy smell of the forest was tinged with the coppery hint of blood. It stood out among the smells of birch, earth, and pine like an accusation. He’d failed again.

  Half the scientist’s face was gone, replaced by claw marks that oozed red in the noon sunlight. Edison’s right eye was missing, and only a gaping red hole stared back from that side of his face. His left eye, which seemed intact, was clouded with pain and stared off to some point beyond Colby’s shoulder. A deep gash cut across his torso, and blood seeped from it and stained his shirt, which also shone red from a dozen other cuts and scratches. Through the tear in Edison’s shirt, Colby saw patches of exposed ribs and even the lower left corner of the sternum.

  There was blood everywhere, and it continued
to pour unabated from Edison’s many wounds. There was no way to stop the bleeding, and even if they could, Colby knew it wouldn’t help. Edison was good as dead.

  “Edison?” Colby asked. “Can you hear me?”

  Edison’s head swiveled, and his bleary eyes roved around, staring vacantly at nothing. He moaned.

  “Edison?”

  “C-can’t see.” Edison said. “C-can’t… see.”

  “It’s me, Edison. It’s Colby. Sarge.”

  Edison nodded, a slight incline of his head. “Hi, Sarge.” Then he clenched his teeth and groaned. Blood bubbled up from his lips and rolled down the side of his face like a tear. “Sarge?” he croaked again. “Sarge?”

  “I’m here, Edison.”

  “Janice… where’s...”

  “Edison?” Janice’s voice. Colby had forgotten she was behind him. She must have caught up. He turned his head to look at her. She stood ten feet away between a pair of maples, wringing her hands and resting her elbow on the butt of Colby’s .45, which stuck out of the pocket of her jeans. Where the hell had she picked that up? Edison must have dropped it. She looked at Edison with a mixture of fear and worry, then turned a hopeful gaze to Colby.

  Colby frowned, then shook his head. No way Edison was going to pull through.

  “Janice?” Edison’s hand went up, his fingers splayed open. “Knew… knew you’d come back.”

  Janice turned to Colby. “For crying out loud, do something!” she shrieked. “Help him.”

  Colby looked at her, but he didn’t speak. He couldn’t think of anything to say.

  She must have read his expression well enough, however, because she started to scream at him again. “No, you don’t. You help him, you fucker! This is your fault for bringing us out here in the first place. We should have stayed at the camp and waited.”

  She pounded the heel of her hand into her forehead and started pacing between the two maple trunks as she said it again. “We should have stayed at the camp. We should have stayed at the fucking camp!”

  Colby stared at her, not knowing what else to do. Tears streaked down her face and her nose had gone bright red. “I’m sorry, Janice,” he said.