The Invasive 2: Remnants Read online

  “That’s an awful thing,” Bishop said. “We know sporadic fire can be good for an ecosystem, have a replenishing effect and create browse for ungulates like moose and elk. But the whole valley?”

  “It would take centuries for it to return to normal,” Angela said.

  Bishop squeezed her hand, and gave her a little smile. She smiled back.

  “It would,” Dr. Avery said. “Some locations would heal faster than others. But in the context of you wishing the valley to return to its pristine pre-invasive state, that’s the best bet. You just wouldn’t see the ‘return’ part. You’d be dead.”

  “Thanks,” Angela said. “Cheerful talk.”

  “It wasn’t my intention to be negative,” Dr. Avery said.

  “It’s all good,” Bishop said. “We want to know all the options, and what we’re up against 100%.”

  Dr. Avery smiled, and looked them both in the eyes. “It’s never going to be the same,” he said. “And I’m sorry about that. But ER18 is going to help make it the closest.”

  Bishop gave Dr. Avery a sad grin. “Thanks for shooting straight with us,” he said.

  Apex Wilderness (116 BPM)

  Bishop woke to the sound of Dr. Avery’s telemetry device beeping.

  He couldn’t think of a more unpleasant way to wake, as he fumbled with his boots and clothes. Angela was halfway to the tent as he fussed with the zipper and tried to shake the sleep cobwebs free.

  “We’ve got contact,” she said. “Hurry.”

  The group stood at the edge of the campground as Dr. Avery pointed the device upslope, towards the 2,000-foot peak. A faint animal trail, no doubt created by bighorn and mountain goats, traced the jumbled mess of cliffs and loose rock.

  “They’re up there,” Dr. Avery said. “Can’t tell you how many, but everything is lining up with the Natural Corrections report.”

  “It’s bad enough we might encounter a grizzly on a narrow trail with no way to escape,” Colbrick said. “But we’re going to hike up there, like dumbasses, and hope that whatever alien nonsense we stir up isn’t one of the bad ones? That’s horseshit crazy. I’m in.”

  Colbrick unlatched his pack and plucked out a small daypack full of ammo, then slid it onto his back.

  Bishop shook his head and grinned, despite the pit of nervousness in his stomach. His father had once told him that if a man never feels nervous, it means that man has become too comfortable, and that the only good things in life ever happen when you get that feeling.

  His father had been right.

  Bishop truly believed that his great valley would never be perfect again. But that didn’t mean they didn’t have to try.

  Soon, they all strapped into their daypacks. Bishop made sure his .357 was loaded, again. He also made sure the dual-bear spray containers on his left hip were set and ready to go.

  They were.

  Above them, Beartooth Peak rose 2,000 feet, the morning sun lighting up its side like a fire, glinting on the embedded crystals within the rock. The cool air smelled sweet and icy.

  “You ready for this?” Angela asked Bishop.

  “No,” Bishop said as he pointed at Colbrick, who was now fifty yards ahead of them up-trail, and whistling like a madman. “But that guy is, and that’s good enough for me.”

  Yutu trotted at Bishop and Angela’s side, as Dr. Avery’s device beeped faster.

  “They must be in crevasses,” Dr. Avery said. “Or we would’ve seen them by now.”

  Eventually, the group caught up to Colbrick, who’d toned down his whistling. The reason was quite obvious. Their line of sight had decreased, as they entered a shaded area of loose talus rock and house-sized boulders. Perfect ambush locations for whatever quasi-stasis invasive had holed up here.

  The group passed around a container of water, and drank deeply. When Angela finished her portion, she poured some into a small granite depression for Yutu. The pooch lapped up the water, then regarded her with thankful eyes.

  Dr. Avery tilted his telemetry device towards the group. “A hundred yards now,” he said with a puzzled look on his face. “But…a hundred yards into the mountain.”

  Bishop took out his binoculars and scanned the massive cliff face. Forty yards ahead, he glimpsed a patch of shade, more than likely a cave. A permeable sense of dread overcame him and he tried to push it back.

  He hated tight places.

  Really, really hated them. Sometimes even his tent was too much (and thankfully the mesh panels offset that). When he was a boy, he and his junior-high friends would get on their hands and knees and enter the tiny drainage system pipes in the Chicago suburbs. They’d see how long they could stand it down there, scraping up their knees, hunched over in the darkness, with only the occasional storm drain allowing daylight to seep through. On one particular trip, they’d managed to go deeper into the tunnel system than ever before. It was there they’d found a dead body, later identified as Mr. Stephenson, who’d committed suicide. Apparently, the father of three had crawled down there and overdosed on heroin, because the needle was still stuck in his bloated, decaying arm. Bishop and his friends had screamed like hell on their way out, banging their heads on the tunnels and cutting up their hands.

  Bishop stared up at the dark cave entrance. He knew this was where the invasive that had survived the military onslaught last year had holed up. He could taste the certainty in his mouth, copper and metal like a penny.

  A short hike later, the group faced the cave opening. It wasn’t much, maybe ten by ten feet. It didn’t occur to Bishop until he was right in front of the entrance that it might also make an excellent den for a grizzly bear.

  Or a mountain lion.

  Bishop stretched on his headlamp and looked into the cave entrance. The walls were slick with moisture, and the occasional drip-drip-drip of water pinged off the cavern walls.

  Or at least Bishop hoped it was water.

  Dr. Avery’s machine beeped several times, and then he shut it off. “We know they’re in here,” he whispered.

  Colbrick stretched on his headlamp and spit. “Draw your weapons, folks. And Doc, get out your sad little slingshot.”

  “Oh God,” Angela said. “Never mind.”

  Bishop was glad for the nervous humor. It beat focusing on the anxiety. Hell, anything beat what they were about to do next.

  Dr. Avery lowered his voice to a whisper. “The objective is to let me fire the bacteria into their midst,” he said. “We don’t want a commotion, or gunfire. It has to be clean, focused, and precise.”

  “I hear ya, Doc,” Colbrick said. “But I ain’t going to play patty-cake with any of ‘em. They come at me, I pull the trigger. More come at me, I pull the trigger. If their cousins and pals come at me, I pull the trigger. Are you recognizing a pattern, Doc?”

  Dr. Avery nodded. “Yes,” he said. “Please be careful.”

  Next thing Bishop knew, the group was descending into the cave, their headlamps gleaming on the slick walls. He thought of his father, and what he would do. And it became all too clear: His father would proceed, because the people around him were great.

  Elmore Text Feed

  Emilee92

  @RobConners When are you coming home, babe?

  RobConners

  @Emilee92 Still have half a dozen more trees to go.

  Emilee92

  @RobConners It’s getting dark. Cut it short and come home. Please. Amy thinks that thing is happening again.

  RobConners

  @Emilee92 It might be. The Forest Service said there might be some left. And speaking of, there are some weird animals next to the logging truck.

  Emilee92

  @RobConners Stay away from them, babe.

  RobConners

  @Emilee92 They’re harmless. Just weird leaves is all. Aaron is feeding them, they like beef jerky, hahaha. Dumbasses.

  Emilee92

  @RobConners Like I said, stay away.

  Emilee92

  @RobConners Rob, babe? Rob?

>   Apex Wilderness (120 BPM)

  A thousand thoughts shuttered through Bishop’s mind. First, they had to be completely insane to even attempt this, ER18 or not. Second, he was putting the lives of his friends (and man’s best friend) at risk. Was this worth it? Was marching into this obvious suicide, for the honor of the valley worth it at all?

  Bishop’s headlamp cone lit up the cavern walls, reflecting in the glossy sheen. He wondered if it was time to pack up, leave the Apex Valley for good, and find another mountain valley without such a sordid history.

  But he knew better.

  If they didn’t stop Werner and the invasives, other valleys would be next. And that was why this fight was so important, so it didn’t happen to others.

  Yutu trotted ahead of the group, keeping as quiet as he could.

  No one said a word as they creeped further into the cave. Bishop thought he saw something flash, and tapped Angela on the shoulder. As soon as they ceased walking, the others got the hint and stopped, too.

  Bishop flicked off his headlamp, and whispered for the others to as well.

  Dozens of yards deeper into the cave, a faint red light flashed against a wall at 120 BPM. Slowly, the light flashed closer to the group. And behind that light, yet another.

  “Oh shit,” Angela said. “Coming this way, fast.”

  “Headlamps back on!” Bishop said as he reached for his .357.

  As the group stepped back, a faint clicking echoed off the cave’s walls, and an odd, rhythmic scraping.

  Yutu growled, and charged to the front.

  “Get back here,” Angela said. “So tired of you trying to be the hero and freaking us all out in the process.”

  Yutu obeyed, and retreated behind them.

  Bishop shone his headlamp deeper into the cave, and was greeted with numerous single, bulbous eyes, each one rotating in a viscous jelly.

  “Secapods,” he said.

  “Well, Doc, now’s yer chance to use your sissy sling-shot.”

  Dr. Avery fumbled with the sling shot and vial of ER18, as cones of light dissected the cavern. “Just one second…”

  Angela groaned and snatched the vial and sling shot from Dr. Avery. In a smooth, quick motion, she fired the vial against the cavern wall just feet ahead of the approaching secapod army.

  “Go,” she said.

  Bishop made sure the others were ahead of him and heading towards the slit of light that marked the cave’s entrance. But that didn’t stop the secapods from gaining ground.

  “Come on, come on,” Bishop said.

  A claw nipped his boot, and he turned and discharged his can of bear spray. The secapods sputtered and screamed in the hazy mist. Bishop had always known that bear spray affected the mucous membranes of the eyes and lungs the worst, and it was no different for the invasives.

  “Hurry,” Dr. Avery said. “Remember, RN18 has a delayed effect.”

  The group scrambled free of the cave, the secapods scurrying at their heels despite bleary eyes and anxious clicking. Bishop lead Angela down the narrow trail, as a series of ear-shattering blasts rocked the high mountains. Colbrick had stopped, and was firing repeatedly into the front line of secapods.

  Bishop watched as a half dozen invasives were turned into shrieking, limping chunks of meat. Bits of limbs and legs scattered amongst the rocks, tripping up the next line of secapods, and buying Bishop and the group time.

  Blast after blast roared from Colbrick’s sawed-off. Bishop stopped, and turned to go back. Angela yanked on his jacket.

  “No,” she said. “He’s got it. We need to get out of here, fast.”

  Alarms rang in Bishop’s mind, ones that had not been present since last year. His options rifled before his eyes. Flee. Fight. Evade. Engage. Save.

  “I got this, slicks!” Colbrick shouted at them in-between shotgun blasts. “Like shootin’ politicians in a back alley.”

  Bishop stopped again, and Angela pulled him forward. “Come on, dammit. You’re going to get us all killed.”

  The sound of gunshots echoed across the alpine canyon, and then were no more. Colbrick had moved out of sight, but Bishop heard him shouting back to the group from behind a boulder. “I’ll leave a few to let them spread, I promise,” he shouted.

  Bishop lunged to help his friend, and stopped when an army of secapods emerged from around the boulder and bore down on the group. Yutu slashed and growled at them, saliva dripping from his muzzle.

  Bishop seized Yutu by the scruff and rejoined Angela and Dr. Avery, who pleaded with him to hurry.

  As he ran, Yutu cradled under his arm, Bishop heard Colbrick.

  “See you all down-mountain, slicks,” he shouted.

  Apex Wilderness (125 BPM)

  The secapods wouldn’t stop. They hunted Bishop and his group, using a variety of sneaky tactics, including veering off-path and trying to overtake them down-mountain. Heading back into the trees had been a mistake, but the goal was to get these infected secapods to reach others, not mow them down, even if they could.

  Bishop was not used to herding invasives. Killing them? Sure. Being attacked by them? Yep. But herding? No.

  Every so often, he’d use himself as bait, then slow down on purpose and run parallel to the main trail, branches and thickets scraping him as secapods clacked behind him.

  This terrified Angela, who’d beg for him not to veer into the woods. But if he didn’t, the secapods might catch the group, and they’d be forced to fire upon them.

  Dr. Avery ran with his telemetry gear out, making sure no other invasives, or escaped invasives surprised them. Yutu’s keen nose also played a role as he led the group to lower, more vegetated elevations.

  As Bishop sprinted through the pines and underbrush, he shouted back to Angela. “It’s not so bad over here,” he said. “I took the scenic route.”

  When he’d managed to slow the secapods by getting them caught in deadfalls, he’d cut back over to the trail, and rejoin the group. A few minutes later, the secapods would catch on, and stream in from the woods back onto the trail, given away by the mad cracking of branches and rustling ferns.

  With his heart pounding and his lungs burning, a terrible thought occurred to Bishop: they were leading the secapods towards civilization.

  “Hey,” he said to Dr. Avery. “How long is the delayed effect on RN18?”

  “Estimates put it at one hour,” Dr. Avery said. “But those were lab results on captured specimen.”

  Bishop clenched his fists. “Wait a second,” he said. “Natural Corrections has invasives?”

  “Of course,” Dr. Avery said. “How do you think they engineered RN18?”

  “In CHICAGO?” Bishop asked.

  “Yes, of course. These are professionals, completely. You need not worry. And my employer only tests on non-tagged invasives.”

  “They better not be experimenting on the bird,” Angela said.

  “That’s the least of our worries right now,” Dr. Avery said, as his telemetry device beeped.

  “Is that the secapods?” Bishop asked.

  “No,” Dr. Avery said as he pointed the device down-trail.

  Bishop wasn’t pleased to see the mountain trail take a blind turn, into a thick patch of pine and brush. By the time the group had stopped, the secapods pushed up on them within yards, forcing them into whatever invasive had been picked up on Dr. Avery’s telemetry device.

  As the group sprinted around the corner, three adult pigra looked up from an injured deer they’d been eating alive. The deer’s frightened eyes bulged at them, as a pigra ran at Dr. Avery with deer intestine still in its mouth, leaving a bloody, elevated rope.

  Bishop ducked the deer intestine as Yutu tore into the pigra’s hairy leg, distracting it from Dr. Avery. Angela veered off into the woods. “Follow me,” she said.

  Bishop pivoted and headed towards her, making sure Yutu was following, as well as Dr. Avery. He was happy to see them right behind him, ducking the death blows of the pigra’s huge, lone claw.
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  The pigras screamed in rage at missing their new prey, and the dying deer, intestines hanging loose, jumped wildly into the woods and disappeared. A moment later, the infected secapods collided with the pigras. The largest pigra rammed its lone claw into a secapod’s bulbous eye, shooting guts and gunk into the woods.

  Nice, Bishop thought.

  Now that the secapods were mingling with the pigras, they might get a breather from the chase, and the pigras might disperse, and spread the bacteria to other remnant invasive.

  Bishop’s hopes were quickly dashed as a pigra slashed through the underbrush behind Dr. Avery.

  “Great,” he mumbled to himself.

  “Go!” Angela said. “Now we have a pigra and secapod fan club.”

  Bishop made sure to stay behind Dr. Avery and Angela, acting as a first line of defense. Yutu, of course, was actually the real front line, trailing even further back than Bishop and using his agility to nip a pigra every few seconds. Bishop called him back, using his angry voice, and Yutu hurried to the group.

  Soon they entered a jumble of talus and boulders, pried loose over time at the base of a massive cliff in a forest clearing. As the invasives gained ground, Bishop did not have the option to parallel the trail and lead the creatures away from his wife. But as he listened within the mayhem as best he could, a river whispered through the pines. And what it whistled to him was the word freedom.

  “Come on,” Bishop said, grabbing Dr. Avery by the arm and practically dragging him. Angela followed, with Yutu right behind her. And behind the pooch, a few dozen angry secapods and a couple pigras.

  As Bishop manhandled Dr. Avery towards the river, a secapod sliced into his ankle with a claw. “Shit,” he said, bright pain flashing up his leg.

  Angela unholstered her .357 and pumped the secapod full of lead. As the gunshots roared across the mountains, the whitewater of Baring Creek filled his ears. And when he turned back from the secapods, the group was upon the bank. Bishop shoved Dr. Avery, and he went flying into the creek, clutching his telemetry equipment. Angela was next, and then Yutu. Bishop felt the hot breath of a pigra on his neck, and didn’t even bother to turn. Instead, he unleashed a torrent of bear spray over his shoulder, and leapt into Baring Creek. The cold water sucked the air from his lungs as he bobbed in the current. Behind him, the secapods and pigras screeched and grunted at river’s edge. The lead secapod’s enormous eye seemed to electrify as if it realized the chase was still on, and then scurried along the riverbank, downstream parallel to Bishop.