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Chapter 4

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We stopped in Murray to gas up. The little convenience store looked lit up and open, and the gas pumps were working, but no one was inside...at least, no one that we could see.

There were enough pumps so that we all parked under the brightly lit canopy. Phyllis pumped her gas, Michael pumped his, and Richie pumped ours. I stood off to the side, keeping watch. I was terrified that we’d be caught out in the open.

“Everybody fill the tanks to the brim!” I said. “We don’t want to have to stop again until we get to the cabin!”

I felt that I was preaching to the choir. Everyone already knew to fill up. It was only my nervousness that made me repeat it.

I can’t tell you how nervous those flying bugs made me feel. Ever since we saw them, all I could think of was the phrase “death from above”. Crawling bugs were one thing, but flying bugs represented a completely different set of circumstances. The sun had set, but it was still dusk. It was bright enough that I could see the skies, and I didn’t see any flying bugs.

My mind kept whirling around what the radio had said about the bugs having lungs, and that they were warm-blooded. Scientists had said for years that the only reason that insects didn’t grow bigger was because they didn’t have lungs. Were these bugs something that had been genetically altered in some laboratory, and had escaped? Or were they mutations that had stayed in hiding until their numbers grew? Or, no matter how outlandish, had they really hitched a ride on a meteor and come from somewhere in space?

It seemed as if no one really knew for sure. Given time, government scientists could code the DNA from these things, and maybe have a better idea about them. But what could we do in the meantime?

I shook my head, symbolically trying to get rid of those thoughts. I needed to focus on the here and now, and help keep eight people alive. In our situation, it’s not day-to-day, or even hour-to-hour. It’s minute-by-minute.

“We’re all filled up, Paul!” called Phyllis. “Do we need to go inside for anything?”

We had all paid with plastic at the pump, so I said, “Not unless we need something.”

Michael spoke up. “I could sure use a cup of coffee.”

“Me, too,” added Millie.

As it turned out, everyone needed something to drink.

“Okay, someone has to stay out here and keep watch. I think it should be either Michael or me,” I said.

“All I need is one large black coffee,” said Michael. “If you’ll bring it out to me, I’ll keep watch.”

We agreed, so we all went inside the store.

No one was inside. It was deserted, but there was a television on over the counter, and on it were pictures and videos of the advancing bugs. We all stopped and watched. There was no sound, but none was needed. There were creatures that looked like millipedes, with huge, pincer-like jaws. Some of the bugs looked like a cross between a mosquito and a duck, with both a long, sharp proboscis, a bill, and feathery wings. There were videos of the city being overrun, and many of the videos were security camera footage. No news footage was shown, probably because of the danger.

The picture shifted to a news anchor, and Richie found the remote for the television, and turned up the sound.

“...and the Islamic Holy Army in Iraq has stated that they are responsible for the release of these hybrid monsters on what they called, ‘the Western infidels’. It has been suggested that Russian scientists, under the control of the Russian Mafia, developed the creatures for money. The Iraqi government denies any involvement, and denounces this action...”

“That’s enough,” I said. “Turn it off, please, Richie.”

He did.

“Well, that explains where they came from,” said Phyllis. “They’re genetic mutations, created by some dumbass Russians. But how did they multiply so much, and so quickly?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” I replied. “Let’s just get our stuff and get out of here.”

No one argued with that. We all chose our drinks, and Millie got the coffee for Michael. At the front, Millie asked, “Should we pay for this stuff?”

I had a twenty in my wallet. I pulled it out and put it on the cash register.

“That will cover our drinks,” I said. “If no one collects it, it isn’t our fault, and we’ve done nothing wrong.”  I pointed to the security camera. “There’s our proof that we paid, if it ever comes up.”

As we left the convenience store, Michael stopped us. “Listen.”

We listened. We heard nothing. And I said as much to Michael.

“You’re right. Nothing. No traffic, no dogs barking, no people noises of any kind,” said Michael. “Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”

I began to get nervous. “Yes, it does. Let’s get going.”

As we passed through Murray, we didn’t see a single car or person. Or dog, for that matter.

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THINGS WERE DIFFERENT when we got to Pine Valley. Our little caravan was only one of many. It seemed as if everyone from miles around were passing through the town on their way to hopeful safety, away from the advancing bugs. Traffic was horrendous, but we managed to stay together.

I used the radio to call to Phyllis and Michael, and I said, “The turnoff is a mile and a half ahead. Turn right on Route Sixteen. It goes up into the mountains. We’ll make two more turns after that. Let’s stay as close together as we can.”

Both Phyllis and Michael responded in the affirmative.

We drove at a snail’s pace, and we never did find out what was up ahead causing the traffic to travel so slow, because we got to Route Sixteen before we found the reason. We turned right on Sixteen, and began our upward climb. The Rocky Mountains are absolutely beautiful, but the night was dark, and we could only see what our headlights highlighted. We met no traffic coming down the mountain.

We got to the first turn, and we turned right onto County Road Number Eight. We traveled two point seven miles, then turned left onto the dirt-and-gravel road that let to our cabin. There were no electric lines here, no telephone poles marching off to nowhere and everywhere to litter the landscape. There were only the mountains, the trees, and the underbrush. We hoped that there were no bugs.

As we rounded the last curve on the gravel road, the cabin came into sight. It was a beautiful sight, a two-story A-frame cabin with wooden shingles and wooden siding, all hand-hewn from trees that came from the forest around it. It had been built by my great-grandfather back in the thirties, before anyone else lived on the mountain. We had neighbors now, however. A couple of women shared another cabin just a bit further along the road. They lived there year-round, and we had always been friendly with them. They looked after the place for us when we weren’t there, so, of course they had keys.

There were three outbuildings. One outbuilding housed the well, and another contained the batteries and gasoline generator that we used when the wind was still, and the sky was overcast. It didn’t get used often, but it had an automatic switch that fired it up if the batteries got below a certain amount. The third outbuilding contained a sizeable walk-in freezer. The twin windmills, one on the north side of the cabin, and one on the south side, were spinning in the breeze that was coming down from the top of the mountain. There were several banks of solar cells tilted slightly toward the south. Between the windmills and the solar cells, we rarely had to use the generator.

The freezer came to be before the kids were born. Phyllis and I decided to spend a four day weekend at the cabin years ago, during the last week of September. She had taken off a Friday and the following Monday. We brought just enough food to last the weekend. On Sunday night, an early snow that surprised everyone trapped us on the mountain for the next week. We were able to stretch our food to last until we could leave the cabin, but the next summer, we bought the walk-in freezer, had it delivered to the cabin, and we built a secure outbuilding around a concrete floor to keep it in. We also stocked it completely, and renewed the stock every year. It was the only thing at the cabin that was kept running year round. That, and the refrigerator inside the cabin.

We parked the vehicles side-by-side, as close to the porch steps on that side as possible. We all climbed out, and stood stretching our tense muscles. And listening to the night’s sounds.

The normal sound of the breeze coming down the mountain and the turning blades chopping the wind were the two main sounds. No insects could be heard, and no animal sounds from the forest came to our ears. That could be either good or bad.

The lack of insect noise bothered me, though. I felt that the lack of it gave me goosebumps.

When we finished stretching, moaning, and loosening our sore bodies, Michael said, “What do we unload first?”

“Nothing. Yet,” I said.

“Something wrong, Paul?” asked Michael.

I shrugged. “We just need to check everything out first. Come on, you and me. We’ll take the outbuildings first.”

“You’re the man.”

We each took a shotgun. Richie asked for one, too. I gave it to him. He started to come with us, and I stopped him, and pulled him over to the side.

“Richie, I need you to stay here, please.”

“Why, Mr. Stiles?” he asked. “I can handle one of these as good as either of you.”

“I have no doubts about that, son.” I pointed. “Look there. Three women, and two kids. Phyllis can handle a gun just as well as I can, but she needs help. I’ve got Michael. Phyllis has you. I need you to stay with them, and help protect the group. Understand?”

He followed my line of reasoning, and came to the same conclusion. “You’re right, sir. I have to say, you’re pretty smart for a writer!”

“That’s why they call us special snowflakes, Richie,” I replied.

We rejoined Michael, and I said, “Michael, Richie is staying here with the group. He’s going to help Phyllis keep everyone safe.”

Michael, bless his heart, caught on quickly. “Good. One less thing for you and I to worry about, with Richie here.”  He looked at Richie. “Don’t aim that at anything you don’t intend to shoot if you have to, and don’t shoot anything you don’t intend to kill. Or anybody. You gonna be okay, kid?”

Richie nodded, holding the shotgun across the front of his body, with the barrel pointed up. “Yes, sir!”

I went over to Phyllis. “We’re going to check out the outbuildings, and then the cabin. Richie’s going to stay here with you.”

Phyllis looked into my eyes. “You be careful, Paul Stiles.”

“You be careful, too, Phyllis Stiles.”

I kissed her quickly on the lips, and headed over to the battery building. I had the keys to the padlock, so I opened the lock, and on a count of “one, two, three”, I swung the door open. Nothing in there that shouldn’t have been.

We moved to the well house, and repeated the process. Nothing.

We moved to the solid little building that had been built around the walk-in freezer. We checked inside. Nothing.

It was time to check the cabin. For some reason that I couldn’t fathom, I was nervous. Goosebumps had sprung out all over. Just then, my cellphone rang.

During the warm months, we had cell service at the cabin. One of the companies had leased some land on the mountain, and built a tower there. They had also installed generators and solar cells to keep the equipment working. Once the snow fell, all bets were off.

So, we had phone service. I still jumped when it rang, because it startled me.

I looked at the number, but I didn’t recognize it. I answered.

“Hello?” I said.

“Stiles? Paul Stiles?” said the voice on the other end.

“That’s me,” I replied.

“This is Bobby Barnes. Is that offer still good about your cabin?”

It was the cop that I had met earlier. He must have made it out of the city, too.

“You bet it is, Bobby! Where are you?”

“We just turned right onto Sixteen.”

“We?” I asked.

Bobby laughed. “Yeah, I picked up a few stragglers on the way. You won’t believe what one of them is bringing! Might be a big help to us later!”

“You’re just a few minutes away, Bobby. Come on up the mountain, and we’ll see what’s what. How’s that?”

“Sounds good. We’ll be right there!”

“Hey, Bobby, look for my wife, Phyllis. I’ve picked up some folks, too, and two of us are going inside to check the cabin. You know, make sure that it’s safe.”

“We’ll be right there, Paul! Just watch for us!”

I disconnected, and said to Michael, “I have to talk to Phyl. Come with me. You need to hear this.”

I pulled the group around and said, “That call was the cop that helped me earlier. I had invited him here this morning, and gave him directions. He’s just turned onto Sixteen, and should be here in a few minutes. He said that he’s picked up a few people along the way, and I told him that was fine.”  I looked at Phyl. “I told him to look for you, because Michael and I would be checking out the cabin.”

“Where do you want them to park?” she asked.

“Close to the cabin. As close as possible.”

Phyl nodded, and I turned to Michael.

“Ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” said Michael.

“Let’s go, then.”

We walked to the porch steps. We climbed them, and stopped on the welcome mat outside the front door. I tried the knob before I started unlocking the lock. It’s a habit I have that I can’t seem to get rid of. I know, because I’ve tried.

The front door was unlocked.

Now, normally, that wouldn’t mean much, and it wouldn’t bother me. Maybe it only meant that Susan and Cheryl, our neighbors just up the mountain, had come down to check on the cabin and forgot to lock the door when they left. For some reason, it disturbed me this time. It disturbed me a great deal.

I shared a look with Michael, and quietly said, “Be ready for anything, buddy.”

He nodded.

We went in. We both held shotguns, because they do the most damage at short range. Michael took the left, I took the right, and we scanned the living room. Nothing was out of place. I nodded to Michael, and we began stealthily working our way through the main floor. It was a large cabin, with large, open living room, dining room, and kitchen. A short hallway led to a den that Phyl and I both used as an office, the downstairs bathroom, and the master bedroom. Since most of the living room, dining room, and kitchen were all so open, we could see in the dim light that all of it was clear. Everything looked untouched.

We made our way to the short hallway. The first door we came to was a closet. Nothing was hiding inside, except clothing and junk that we had stored here over the years. The next door was the bathroom. We swung the door open, and both of us froze for a moment.

In the bathtub was Cheryl, one of our two lady neighbors. She was totally out of her head, and her eyes were milky. Empty.

Michael and I both swung our shotguns up and aimed in her general direction. Her mouth was moving, but nothing was coming out. After seeing the same thing with Ralph earlier, I knew what that meant.

I flipped on the light. Cheryl hadn’t vomited yet. But it was close.

“Michael, we’ve got to get her out of the house now,” I whispered with some urgency. “She’s close to spewing squirmers!”

“Doesn’t look like she’s going to walk if you tell her to,” said Michael.

I cocked my head and thought about it. “You know, she just might, if we lead her out.”  I paused. “If we hurry.”

“I have no plans to touch her.”

“Neither do I.”

“What do we do?”

“We each take one of her hands, and we lead her out of the cabin.”

“I’m not touching her, Paul!”

“Hang on, hang on...I got it! Be right back!”

I left the bathroom and went to the closet. I dug around, and, sure enough, my memory had been correct. Two big pairs of thick snow gloves were inside the closet. I grabbed them, and brought them back to the bathroom. I gave a pair to Michael.

“Now,” I said to Michael. “We’ll each take her by the hand, and we’ll lead her outside.”

We approached Cheryl, each of us with a hand out.

“Hi, Cheryl,” I said gently.

Her head turned toward me as I spoke her name, and those empty eyes looked in my direction from inside her doomed body.

“It’s Paul. This nice man with me is Michael. We’d like you to come outside with us. Can you take our hands? We’ll help you.”

She raised her hands, but we could see that it took her a great deal of effort. Michael and I each took one of Cheryl’s hands, and we literally pulled her to her feet.

“Okay, Cheryl, can you lift your left leg over the side of the tub?” I said.

Cheryl raised her leg high – almost high enough to touch her chest with her knee. She stretched it out over the side of the tub, and put it down on the bathroom floor.

“Great, sweetie, now the other leg,” I said gently.

She got the other leg out of the bathtub. Michael and I started walking her to the door.

I could hear several vehicle engines outside, coming up the road and parking in the grass. One engine sounded like the diesel on a big truck, and it was struggling to make it up the mountain’s grade.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Michael and I walked Cheryl through the living room, and I gave her words of encouragement as we went. Words like, “Good girl” or “almost there, don’t stop now” were mantras that I chanted to my former neighbor, hoping and praying that we got her out of the cabin before she threw up her load of squirmers.

A figure appeared in the front door. It was Bobby, still wearing his police uniform. He had his sidearm drawn, and he held it in both hands with the barrel pointed upward.

“Hey, Bobby,” I said quietly.

Bobby’s eyes snapped to us, and saw that we were leading Cheryl.

“Bobby, remember Ralph? My neighbor? Well, this is Cheryl. She lives just above us here on the mountain,” I said. “She seems to have something in common with Ralph, and I’d say we only have a couple of minutes.”

Bobby’s eyes widened, and then he nodded. “Understood, Paul. I’ll make sure that everyone is out of the way. Any particular place you want to take her?”

“Just outside.”

Bobby said, “I have something that might help, if you aren’t squeamish. I’ll go get it.”

“Right now, we’ll take all the help we can get, Sergeant Barnes,” I said, not without some irony.

“I’ll be waiting,” he said, with a grim look on his face. Then he was gone.

“Nice enough guy,” said Michael. “He’s been in the shop a couple of times, checking out the handguns.”

“He told me almost everything he knew this morning about the bugs,” I said. “He was the first cop on the scene when Ralph thr...uh, came over.”  I said this last part just in case Cheryl was still cognizant enough to comprehend what I was saying. I knew she understood simple terms, but I wasn’t going to take a chance of letting her know that her time was almost up.

We got her to the front door and out onto the porch. As we got her to the bottom of the steps, I looked around for Bobby. He was standing off to the side, about fifteen feet away from the cabin. He had what looked like a large pack strapped to his back, with a long hose attached.

“Bring her here, Paul,” said Bobby.

“What’s that thing on your back, Bobby?” I asked.

“It’s a flamethrower.”

My eyes widened as I realized what he was going to do.

“Bobby, she’s still alive! You can’t be serious!” I yelled.

“Paul, you know as well as I do that she’s already dead! You saw your neighbor this morning! Once he puked out his guts, he curled up and died!”

“That doesn’t mean you can burn her alive!”

“I can, and I will!” Bobby yelled back.

Michael had already let go of Cheryl’s hand and backed away.

I was about to yell at Bobby again, when Cheryl opened her mouth and said, “Glrk-k-k...”

I knew what that meant. I dropped her hand, jumped away, and screamed, “Bobby! Go!”

As Cheryl bent at the waist, Bobby’s flames hit her. Everything that came out of her mouth boiled away before it hit the ground. Cheryl was still bent over, but flames covered her body, burning it quickly inside a roaring inferno.

She never made a sound.

Bobby hit her again with the flames, and burned a circle of ground around her, too. He wasn’t taking chances, and I can’t say that I really blamed him. My head had known that he had been right. It had been my heart that had found it hard to go through with what had to be done.

For a few minutes, the only sound that could be heard was the crackling of flames, and the quiet sobbing of my wife.

I looked at Bobby and Michael. “Ready?”

Both looked puzzled.

Michael said, “Ready for what?”

“We have to make certain the rest of the cabin is clear. Then, we need to find Susan. She was our other neighbor.”

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THE REST OF THE CABIN was clear. No creatures, and no Susan.

Bobby had brought people with him. One guy was driving a cement truck. An eighteen-wheeler had a load of lumber, and its driver was a lady. Another guy drove a big, eighteen-wheel tanker.

The tanker was full of gasoline.

Also, Bobby had brought an RV with ten people, and a delivery van with six more. The delivery van was a milk truck. I saw dairy in everyone’s future for a few days, since the milk would go bad quickly.

Bobby had told us that things in the city got really bad before he got out. The creatures were everywhere, and it seemed that no one was secure.

Bugs can get into almost anything, you see.

Bobby had gotten three flamethrowers from the National Guard Armory on the outskirts of the city. The Guard had been called out, but the call came too late for any Guard members to make it to the facility. Bobby had helped himself, with the help of some of the people that came with him. He had driven his patrol car, and they had loaded it with National Guard grenades, missile launchers, machine guns, and lots of ammunition.

Bobby’s young partner hadn’t made it.

They were called to another bug location, but this one had been growing for a while. It had been one of the millipede-looking creatures, with the long, pincer jaws. It had caught the young cop with both jaws, and, when the jaws spread, they ripped him apart. The creature then ate the pieces.

It was that event that told Bobby it was time to bail. Dying in the line of duty was fine, and he was prepared to do it...if it would make a difference. Against these invading creatures, his death would only have been a small meal for some large bug.

The guy driving the cement truck was Bobby’s brother, Billy. The rest of the people had come from a diner just outside of the city. Bobby had told them what was going on, and invited them along. He had come up with an idea for the wood, the cement, and the gasoline, and said that he would explain it later.

We were about to go to Susan’s cabin, to find out what had happened to her, and if Cheryl had been there. Our silent prayer was that Susan was okay.

I gathered the group together and, at the risk of seeming to be an asshole, reminded everyone that the cabin belonged to Phyllis and me. Anything major had to be cleared through one of us, and ours was the final say. I don’t think I needed to remind any of them of the other option available, should they choose to ignore that basic rule. I left Phyllis in charge, and me, Michael, Bobby, and Richie would go investigate the other cabin.

We made sure that the ones remaining had weapons, and were all loaded and ready. I told Phyllis to get them all started unloading trucks, and figuring out where everyone would sleep.

The four of us began our hike up the mountain.