Oakton

by B. Chen

  Chapter 9. Blood in the Streets.

  Sunday 10:31pm.

  Daisy let out a wounded animal yelp that seemed to echo around and linger in the air but immediately caused a gasp from my mouth and tears in my eyes, I could barely see.

  Again my brain went into slow motion mode. Responding only to the sound of her dog in agony Beth spun around. She turned so fast her hair became partially un-tied like a long blonde streak following her head as her entire body turned towards the intersection in a fluid like movement. Beth shoved her crossbow over her shoulder as she raced towards Daisy. Her long legs stretched-out, her boots biting into the rain soaked street as she accelerated towards the dog fighting back tears the whole way. I think she tried to cry the dogs name but could only gasp for air, like me. I don’t think any of us was prepared for one of our group being injured.

  I turned back towards the east to see the man stop running. With my brain still seeing everything in slow motion I saw him drop to his knees, then to his face. His feet kicked up briefly then fell back to the ground with a hose-like stream of blood pumping and pulsing from his back. The spear he threw hit inches from my left boot, sticking out of the street. In the distance behind him the glowing red end of Beth’s arrow slowly lost altitude coming to rest on the street hundreds of feet beyond our attacker.

  I could hear Beth starting to cry loudly as she fell to her knees next to Daisy.

  Looking down at Ben just ten feet from me I saw him grit his front teeth together like he does when we’re in practice pressing weights in the gym. He put one hand on his thigh the other grabbed the spear. He grunted and growled towards the sky then yanked the stone arrowhead from his thigh. There was a blood soaked area on the side of his cammo pants about the size of a doughnut. Ben briefly closed his eyes then rolled over and tried to get up. Even during our games, Ben never lets teammates help him back to his feet.

  I turned raising my rifle aiming at Ben's front yard and began shooting into the darkness. I sprayed the entire yard with hot angry ceramic bullets until my mag went empty. Hitting the button the magazine fell silently to the ground at my feet. Grabbing another from my side leg pocket I inserted it into the receiver on the bottom of the rifle I loaded it and chambered the first round. I loved the clunking sound it made when it yanked the bullet from the magazine and shoved it into the end of the barrel, ready to fire.

  'Screw this,' I thought to myself as it appeared we had disintegrated into every man for himself by this point. Standing in the street gave us no protection so I took off in a run towards the south-west corner of Ben's house.

  My legs stretched out as my boots gripped the street. I gained enough speed to clear the ditch landing safely with a splash in his soggy front yard.

  Just then I saw Harvey Meek's truck come flying back into town on the county road, in reverse as fast as he could. In the back of his truck was a man dressed in dark clothing carrying a large pack. As they closed-in on the center of town I caught a glimpse of large letters on his shirt that said EMS. ‘Oh thank God,’ I thought to myself. The two men leaped from the truck when they got to his daughter on her knees by the wounded dog. I could see the dog on her side as a pile of fur with a long stick aiming up in the air. Beth was on her knees with her face smashed into the dog's face trying to give some comfort to the wounded animal.

  Beth's father yelled out loud that the fire truck couldn't get to us because of the flood waters went across the roads but this one paramedic agreed to risk his life and swim across the icy river water to help us if he could but the rest of the crew refused to risk it. I could barely see his clothes looked totally soaking wet. He must be freezing. I don’t think either of them realize they’re in the center of a war zone. Shots have been fired and there’s already a body count.

  I took off running towards the corner of Ben’s house as his father stepped out the front door with his big old flashlight. He shone it around the yard illuminating a small guy standing on Beth's long concrete driveway.

  At the same time, that guy took off running down Beth's driveway towards the barn, towards Bullet.

  Ben's father and I paused for a second to glance at each other then chased after him the best we could. The small man pushed the gate to the paddock wide open. I saw him throw open the door reaching in grabbing Bullet's lead pulling her just outside the doorway and literally leaping up onto her back. By this time I was halfway down the length of their driveway. While I was on the run I glanced over to see Ben was on his feet slowly limping towards Beth, her father and the paramedic tending to the injured dog.

  What I saw next was something I only seen in sci-fi movies. As the small man tried to coax the horse into movement it looked like several shiny things were on the edge of the barn roof right above them. Within seconds the horse acted like it was being attacked by bees or something. In the lightning and Ben's Dad's slowly approaching flashlight I could see the small man on Bullet was slowly covered in shiny moderately sized mechanical spiders. They were dropping from the barn roof edge just above his head.

  He began to scream in agony as each one used its tiny needle tipped feet and frontal spears to poke hundreds of holes in his blackened skin producing a wave of red liquid slowly leaking down his chest, arms, and face.

  It crossed my mind briefly; this guy has no saddle--he's about to find out how this female Spanish Mustang got named Bullet! Beth told me Bullet is a direct descendant of actual pony express horses from back in the 1860s.

  The horse was having none of it. She took off out the paddock across the back yard just like when she was running around the house a little while ago. Me and Ben's father turned around running back down the driveway towards the street.

  Within seconds Bullet rounded the front corner of their house heading north across the yard and driveway towards the Fricke Cemetery. Ray raised his light as they crossed the driveway, the small blood-gushing man holding on for dear life as the Spanish Mustang quickly reached full speed.

  Bullet was running northwards passing through the rows of oak and apple trees that run along Meek’s driveway. I think she was trying to get this guy knocked off her backside but he ducked too.

  I got to the front corner of their house in seconds raising my rifle, taking aim, slowly holding my breath as the spotting laser came on. Gently I let out my breath as I leaned into their house for stability, squeezed the trigger, as the rifle barrel jumped skyward and a huge crack momentarily deafened my right ear. The only shot I could take just then and avoid hitting the horse was a head-shot which made for a really small, bouncing target, but I’m a pretty good shot, especially with this rifle.

  I gently squeezed the trigger then closed my eyes, turned to look at Ben’s dad confident that my round would hit the intended target.

  10:36pm.

  Later I was told by Ray Brown that he slumped over falling backwards head first off the panicked horse running as fast as her legs could take her towards the cemetery, just like last time. The small man landed in a crumpled heap just out of our view down the hill to the north. Ben’s father turned to look back at me, smiled, nodded and winked. We haven’t actually spoken to each other in almost ten years now.

  Ray Brown took off running back towards his front door. I joined everyone else attending to the wounded animal. Now I could see Ben limping around Beth and the men tending to the wounded dog, the only light from the barn fire and the dissipating electrical storm.

  I slid my rifle over my shoulder. I got down on my knees right next to Beth laying my hand on her shoulder patting her gently next to her crossbow strap. In that moment, I felt something really strong for her but I didn't have time to linger. It was like a brand new feeling for her. Daisy raised her head to see the crowd of humans gathered around her trying to save her life, she was panting from the fear and pain.

  Ben pulled his shirt off over his head to lay it under the dog's head so her tongue wasn't lying on the muddy roadway.

  The paramedic started to tend to the wound, it d
idn't look too bad. He already fashioned a tourniquet on the dog's back leg and pulled out the spear. When he loosened the rope it didn't gush blood, which meant she probably didn't get any arterial injury. He dressed her wounds so I got up to tend to Ben, his Dad running to his aid near us in the street. Ben never said anything about his injury until after Daisy was taken care of.

  I briefly leaned into Ben putting my arm over his shoulder and pulled him firmly into me. We didn’t need to speak just then but I did see that his blood stain was much larger now. I’m sure Ben knows I’m proud of him.

  10:51pm.

  I pulled the knife from its sheath strapped to my leg to slice the leg of his cammo pants. It looked like a flesh wound on the outer side of his thigh. Ray and the paramedic placed gauze and wrapped lots of layers around it. In a few minutes they helped Ben to sit in the back of Harvey's truck. The men and Beth lifted Daisy off the muddy street laying her on her side in the back of the truck next to Ben. I grabbed Ben’s shirt from the street tossing it to him as the truck slowly rolled towards their driveway.

  I took off for our barn. I ran in the door but the part Dad was in was rather dark, so I got to my knees to gently shake him. “Dad?” He immediately opened his eyes and started trying to get to his feet. His rifle was only about fifteen feet away on the front of his ATV. “I thought you were dead!” I shouted to him. “I’ll explain later.” He barked back as we both took off for different parts of the battle.

  “Everyone’s in the horse barn!” I yelled at him as he climbed on his ATV pushing the start button. The lights came on immediately as the motor began to whine and gain speed.

  I hopped on the quad heading out the barn to the side of the house, into the kitchen, picked up the phone. The dispatcher was still there on the line wanting to know if I wanted to hurt myself.

  "Listen, you moron, now we have wounded, and dead. We need medical airlift helicopters and an emergency vet. There's four dead in the streets.” I dropped the phone running back to the quad, racing across the yard, over the ditch and into the road heading north after Bullet.

  I twisted the throttle as far as it would go reaching about seventy miles an hour before I got past the end of Meek's driveway. In my headlights I thought I was starting to see the shape of a horse on the street ahead on the left.

  Something caught my attention as I sped past the end of Beth’s driveway. I thought I saw a large pile of pieces of shiny scrap metal near the end of her driveway but I was so focused on getting to the Fricke I couldn’t stop to check it out.

  And before I caught up with the horse I passed what looked like another small dead body along the road. It was a small oily blackened man that I must have shot when I emptied my clip earlier during the battle.

  10:56pm.

  Bullet ended up where I thought she'd be; at the cemetery where the better taller sweeter grass always grows. In the headlights on the quad I saw the creek bed was completely full, over fifty feet wide of muddy ice cold water. Four reed canoes were lying along the bank of this temporary river. I turned the quad heading into the field where Beth said her dad told her the old Pawnee Cemetery was.

  I saw several large holes and what looked like three more things slowly oozing up out of the ground with partial bodies like the other tiny men that attacked us. I ran to the ATV. There were a bunch of sandbag ties in the tool box on the front rack.

  As I jumped off the ATV I caught a glimpse of what appeared to be Dad on his ATV running around town, I think he was hunting for more of our invaders. Then I took off at a fast run across the field towards the emerging canoes.

  I grabbed the still dormant Pawnee warriors by the wrists dragging them across the muddy farm land to the nearest oak trees and bound them, wrists and ankles to the tree trunk.

  I was immediately overrun with nausea, dropping to my knees as if pushed by the Gods down to pray in front of the line of emerging Pawnee Warriors, I lowered my head to barf right there in front of the resurrecting bodies. Again and again I was wracked with intense waves of nausea.

  11:01pm.

  After the nausea left me alone I sort of looked around to visually survey the area. I got to my feet, spitting on the ground and wiping my mouth with my arm. I turned to look at the quad, but to my horror saw a short skinny pair of human legs walk in front of the headlight.

  Reaching down I picked up my rifle taking aim but realizing I couldn't shoot my own ride, I started to duck and run for the river's edge then towards the Fricke Cemetery.

  Circling around the perimeter of the scene and away from the bound warriors I ran fast for the only cover out here, the limestone block walls of the Fricke Cemetery.

  Crossing the street with the water to my right I curved towards the cemetery and literally dove over the short block wall into the grasses along the inner side of the perimeter wall where I became as still as the earth, waiting for the coming attack. I realized right then just how alone I really was. I wanted to cry but it wouldn't come. I thought only of Beth and my own fear of death.

  I could hear Bullet just outside the cemetery wall making sounds. Surely with her large night vision eyes she could see exactly what was happening. There was a background of thunder from the fading electrical storm making it hard to hear much of anything nearby with an almost constant rumble from the clouds above me and the drops of rain splashing on the headstones or falling softly to the grass of the Fricke.

  I heard Bullet start to get more agitated, her shod hooves kicking pebbles on the street. I knew this was my signal. I slowly slid my rifle to my chest then up by my chin ready to fire at the cemetery entrance, but I kept my finger off the trigger lest I reveal my hiding place by switching on my targeting laser. I wondered how many rounds I had left. Too bad it's not like the movies where the good guys always know. I was too freaked out to remember.

  By the flashes of light from the clouds I saw the shape of a small man silently slowly sneak in the cemetery gates, spear in one hand, knife edged rock in the other. The sight so horrific I could barely breathe, I wanted to scream for Beth or Dad.

  11:07pm.

  He stopped to listen. I was perhaps fifty feet to his right, on the cold wet ground trying to melt into the limestone block wall and weeds. He twisted his head looking exactly in my direction then over at the horse. My heart was pounding.

  That's when I heard the now slightly familiar sound of clicking on the road. Bullet alarmed with a snort and some horsey sounds I took to be a warning for me but she was also giving away his presence. I could hear her slowly inch away. She knew. Then the clicking suddenly sped-up. I could see in the lightning the small man at the cemetery entrance turn towards the horse and raise his arm to throw the spear into Bullet. Instead he began to move as if he was swatting ants off his arms and legs. Then he seemed to be overwhelmed with the sudden onslaught of insects from the ground.

  I heard Bullet move closer to me, I could also hear the movement of the flood waters not forty five feet away from my shoes.

  The warrior in the cemetery entrance started making noises of panic as he struggled with his insect attackers. Then a rapid sequence of lightning showed he was under attack by the swarm. I was being rescued by an entire army of autonomous drone spiders. They literally ran up the attackers legs all the way to his face. As he swatted one off three more climbed up his legs, poking holes the entire way.

  Swatting them off, they landed on the soft grasses at his feet, righted themselves and quickly returned for another attack. I think I could see more than a dozen insects. The more he struggled the more arrived from the nearby fields and down the street. Some were jumping off nearby headstones trying to land on his face.

  The goal of the swarm was to run all over him, cover as much skin as possible. With each step of their tiny feet they buried a surgical steel needle into his skin causing hundreds of pin pricks. More and more blood would ooze from his body. The ones with spears attacked larger veins in his lower legs and the rest tried to puncture his eyes, ears, and face. I thin
k their actual goal was to inflict pain, fear, and later death by overwhelming infection.

  He seemed to be suddenly stuck in one spot but then I heard a new and different mecha sound.

  This was more like the sound of a rapid mechanical clicking, something I think I heard a version of before but I wasn't sure what was going on. I also heard the short chirp like a camera strobe charging between each of the louder clicks. The small man flinched as if being stabbed repeatedly, twisting and bending in agony but too scared to fall down and die easily.

  Soon, the man started screaming in panic as the waves of blood ran down his arms and legs. He was bleeding to death by a thousand tiny holes. His high pitched voice echoed around the cemetery as his silent attackers kept up the massive assault. It was obvious I would not be firing a shot in this fight so I rose to sitting on the ground by the cemetery wall, the top of the wall about even with my shoulders. My cammo gear was totally soaked and cold now. I was trembling uncontrollably.

  The noise of something clicking on the limestone block behind me got my attention. Looking over my shoulder I saw one of the spiders watching what I was doing. I raised my hand to wave, it responded by lifting the tip of one front leg off the block wall briefly. I got to my feet as the Pawnee soldier dropped to his knees, his blood pressure now too low to support awareness as he fell forward and slowly died. His eyes wide open and unblinking staring towards where I was hiding by the limestone block wall.

  11:12pm.

  By the time I got near his body the spiders were almost gone, Bullet had moved closer as if to witness the end herself. She snorted to me. I took her lead walking her by the block wall. By the cemetery entrance gate up on the pillar I saw one of the attack spiders Beth had created but never spoke of. This one was poised aiming at the lifeless man on the ground. This spider had only half the body but had a tiny gun mounted on top, this is the one that could fire a hundred sewing machine needles at high velocity. It would fire at your heart, eyes, throat, and neck trying to put you out of commission as a soldier in a very short time. She made only one of these platforms. It probably saved my life.

  The odd looking spider right next to the gun mounted unit looked like a box on spider legs. It must be the combat supervisor computer drone she mentioned building that arrives on scene to direct operations from a high observation point for all the units in the swarm to avoid un-necessary duplication or actions and place the shooting drone in safe and effective firing locations.

  I never rode bareback before but was about to give it a try. I didn't think she'd let me guide her home from on the quad, so I slipped on top of the horse from the block wall and rode her home leaving the idling quad running in the field by Ben's place where several reed canoes were still emerging from the ground.

  I caught a glimpse of several of the tiny spiders running towards the barn on the street as we galloped past. I didn’t need to guide Bullet, she knew exactly where to go. And with me on back, she avoided the trees turning into their yard at a much slower pace.

  I could see Dad off in the distance on his ATV patrolling the perimeter of town still looking for more attackers.

  As we passed along the side of Meek’s house I could see a growing line of emergency vehicles stuck on the far side of the creek bed, they couldn’t get to us. As I approached the paddock gate I heard some rifle shots off beyond Patton’s property, about ten shots in rapid succession. Oakton looked and sounded like a war zone.

  11:29pm.

  Bullet was back in her paddock. Ben and Daisy were in the barn being tended to. The place still smelled like melted plastic. About ten minutes later my Dad slowly walked in Meek's barn with his rifle over his shoulder to join the rest of the neighbors. Shortly after that Beth's and Ben's moms came in frantic and tearful at the sight of our injuries.

  While we were trying to figure out what to do with the wounded dog the paramedic was telling us he never had a four legged patient before.

  Dad leaned into my side for support as they tended to their wounded dog. Ben was sitting on the edge of the PC desk with his one bare leg hanging out. Beth was cleaning the dog’s face while Adam repaired Daisy’s leg. Everyone was mindful of the large teeth.

  Beth held the dog still while the EMS guy pulled the wound edges together with five stitches after a really deep cleansing with sterile saline from the army medic kit he had. They put a large beach towel like a sling under her stomach and helped Daisy limp back inside their house up to the second floor, into Beth's bedroom and closed the door. It's been years since I've been in her room. She had a small mattress on the floor which was the dog bed.

  Only after Daisy was done did Ben let them look at his wound. The paramedic carefully cleaned the wound and taped the edges together telling us it would probably need to be cleaned out at the hospital once they could fly a helicopter into town which was impossible until after the storm passed.

  Monday 1:20am.

  While this was going on we discussed the flooding. The barn was still on fire. We were trapped on the hilltop; nobody up here owned a boat or even a canoe. I explained what I'd seen, the attacks, the reed canoes, the burial sites. We counted the dead and talked for a while. The storm was almost over. On the floor of the barn the remaining members of the swarm entered the barn using the cat door walking to their charging stands all on their own.

  6:09am.

  The sky was starting to lighten up with the approaching morning.

  I finally got a chance to see it. From the center of Oakton we were surrounded by flood waters from the Missouri River, all this way, four miles. There was no way we could drive out. No way any rescuers could drive in to us until the Missouri River flood waters receded days from now. The state police landed two helicopters about an hour ago to investigate the deaths of what turned out to be nine dead Indians that were buried hundreds of years ago in unmarked graves on the Brown's farm.

  7:25am.

  Not too long after the first helicopter landed with state police investigators, Beth, Dad and I were handcuffed and held apart in our homes while they took statements from our families about how so many people died in our town in the past twenty four hours. It didn't take long until we were released.

  Because the entire story sounded a bit supernatural, the police decided to keep the TV stations from landing in town and interviewing Beth and me or getting up-close photos of the bodies being hauled off in inflatable police boats over the flooded roads.

  The main police dude at the scene told my dad that he didn't want to have to explain that a group of kids killed several people that were buried hundreds of years ago. Too many people would panic, too many weirdos from around the world would arrive if the story got out. So we agreed to keep the whole story to ourselves for our own good. They took off our handcuffs and advised us to remain available to detectives for the next couple of weeks.

  He also said there would be a team from the university arriving tomorrow to map out a plan to excavate the entire site. They would also keep a guard posted at the site for the next few weeks, twenty four hours a day. We were to report any other changes in the soil all over Oakton to state police right away.

  By 9am Ben was airlifted to the hospital in Falls City.

  By 10am white plastic body bags covered the dead and Daisy was limping around the house on three legs but well enough to eat and ask for the TV to be turned on.

  At 10am we refused to allow the Omaha TV station to land a helicopter, since this was a private matter now. Three news helicopters and two small airplanes flew over that morning trying to shoot video of sheet covered corpses scattered around our town.

  At 11am Dad was airlifted to the hospital along with a load of state police leaving. A boat had pulled up to our street to start removing the dead in body bags to the state police morgue in Omaha.

  The warriors I captured during their re-birth were found dead still strapped to oak trees near the north side of Brown's house. No cause of death was ever mentioned to us but I always suspected
Beth's armed spider might have finished them off with one precisely aimed shot each which would only appear like a tiny red dot on the chest, front and back.

  At 5pm everyone was back home by boat. Dad got three stitches in his head and face and one bag of IV antibiotics. Daisy was transported by boat then truck to the vet clinic in Falls City. Local police posted armed guards at the Pawnee burial site day and night for weeks after the storm.

  Monday 2:00pm

  That afternoon Ray Brown invited the whole neighborhood over for a cook out. Boy oh boy did the crap hit the fan at that gathering which everyone attended. It came from someone nobody expected. The anger was palpable. I got sick to my stomach again briefly.