The Invasive Read online

  The light bloomed as the debris haze dissipated. Ten more steps and they entered the penumbra, and seconds later, they glimpsed the blurry outline of trees and highway. Behind them, the unseen army clamored and splashed, and Bishop swore he felt his eyelid twitch.

  They exited the debris cloud and stepped onto dry land. Bishop looked down at Angela and saw her crack a thin smile.

  “Holy shit do I love you,” he told her.

  “Keep going,” Colbrick said. “And don’t look back. It’ll slow us down. Keep on!”

  Bishop lost his balance and stumbled to the ground. He managed to put a hand under Angela’s head, stopping her from hitting the pavement. In doing so he hit his chin, forcing stars and swirls. He gawked in a stupor, not knowing his name.

  A shotgun blasted his ears, adding to the confusion.

  Bam! Bam! Bam!

  Bishop’s stomach heaved.

  Bam!

  The fir trees spun, swirling in a wild pattern. Bloody drool slathered down Bishops’ split chin.

  Bam! Bam! Bam!

  “I don’t think so, sons a’ bitches!” Colbrick shouted, his words mangled by firearm reverberation.

  Bam!

  Bishop’s ears rang from the blasts, which mixed with the noisome scurrying of creatures and tearing of flesh. The smell of gunpowder permeated the air. Out of the corner of his eye, Bishop saw Colbrick stumble.

  Bishop clutched Angela in the chaos.

  “Get up!” Colbrick said, reaching out a hand to Bishop. “Get up now or you’re gonna die!”

  Bishop wobbled to his feet, half-deaf and still dizzy. He grabbed Angela’s arms and Colbrick took her feet. They stumbled down the valley road, away from the massive structure. Bishop glanced behind and saw the appendages of a dozen of the primate creatures, their little limbs separated from their bodies and their strong jaws with tiny rows of teeth jutting open, their lifeless eyes staring at the dusty sky.

  “Keep going!” Colbrick shouted. “Keep on!”

  Bishop tapped into a surprising reservoir of energy, and they pulled away from the structure. When they reached what felt to be a safe distance, they looked back up the road.

  Angela cried out.

  “What in the hell?” Bishop said, mouth agape.

  Far away, at the top of the road dam, numerous seal-like creatures scurried, placing vegetation where they could. Some traveled in groups, using this strength advantage to carry logs and small trees.

  “God damn,” Colbrick said. “Impossible.”

  “Bishop…get us out of here, please,” Angela said, clutching his left arm.

  “Don’t move,” Colbrick said. “Let’s wait until they clear the barrier. Our movement may trigger an attack. Prey is best unseen.”

  The seal-like creatures groped and scurried atop the road dam. Bishop noticed several of them had the blinking, red devices he’d seen earlier on the mammal creature under the deck. He estimated the pulsing at thirty beats per minute.

  Bishop wanted to cry when he tried to picture Cooke’s Creek, the place he and his father had enjoyed fishing. Trickles of silted water spread downhill towards them like fingers reaching for help.

  “Motherfucker,” Bishop said. “I’m glad Dad isn’t around to see this.”

  “I used to fish that one too,” Colbrick said, spitting onto a fern and gripping his shotgun tighter.

  The horde of seal creatures finally scurried off the enormous vegetative dam. As they did, a gust of wind blew the particulate air in Bishop’s direction.

  Angela coughed and Bishop took her hand.

  “You alright, baby?” he asked.

  “A little better,” she said. “Can you find me a place to rest?”

  “Of course.”

  Colbrick got the message and took her feet.

  “Alright, let’s do this,” Colbrick said. “I know a hunting trail on this side of the road that leads to Big J Outfitters. It may take us a day to get there, but I don’t see no other choice.”

  “A day?” Bishop asked.

  “Yep. Unless you have other ideas, slick.”

  Bishop looked at Angela and she nodded. It was settled.

  Silhouettes appeared in the silted clouds and haze, from the direction of the road dam.

  “Wait a second,” Bishop said.

  “What’s the holdup?” Colbrick asked.

  “Thought I saw something,” Bishop said.

  They waited for several seconds, unable to see much of anything except for dust clouds. Frenetic scrapping and slapping came from the haze below the dam, followed by the shapes of unknown beings.

  Bishop shivered when he realized the things were bigger versions of the tiny primates, their eyes the same shade of crimson and their teeth larger. The creatures—seven or eight in total—shambled towards them using six limbs, each with a worn knuckle. Although they were not blazing fast, the monkey-like things were speedy enough. The creatures headed straight for them, mouths gnawing at the air.

  “Go,” Bishop said. “Into the woods!”

  They hustled into the trees. Figures appeared on the road below them and shambled across the blacktop on bloody, worn knuckles.

  Makes sense, Bishop thought. Why wouldn’t there be creatures which preyed upon those unlucky enough to be corralled by the barrier? The ambushers would pick off whatever they could, like remoras attached to a shark.

  Bishop and Colbrick darted through the forest as much as two people carrying an injured person could. Angela’s head bore the brunt of slapping branches—some thicker than Bishop liked. Dust clouds filtered between the trees, giving an otherworldly luminance to the understory. Bishop coughed and tried to shake it off.

  “Who knows what’s in this stuff,” Colbrick said between coughs.

  They pushed through huckleberry bushes and bracken fern, slamming into the trunks of cedar and aspen. Their faces poured sweat, and Bishop’s slick hands made it harder to grasp Angela.

  “Hold up a second,” Bishop said, chest heaving. His flatlander cardiovascular system was not cooperating as he’d like.

  “Come on, slick,” Colbrick said. “Those things could be on our tail. Get a movin’.”

  Bishop lowered Angela, placed his hands on his hips and gasped at the sky. He turned when he thought he heard slapping vegetation behind them.

  Colbrick put a finger to his lips, then gestured to Bishop with his other hand towards the unbroken forest. Bishop hoisted Angela and they proceeded west, the forest floor rising, many of the trees replaced with car-sized boulders and slippery green moss logs. The forest floor was not reliable, and each time they passed over an ancient fallen cedar, they weren’t sure how far they’d sink into the spongy moss.

  “Why are we going higher?” Bishop asked.

  “You ever go hunting?” Colbrick asked.

  “I was always more of a fisherman,” Bishop said.

  “Deer and bear like to walk the easy routes, too. That ain’t a trait unique to us humans. The way I see it, those things will follow the lower, easier trails. In other words, I’m trying to lose our tail.”

  “Makes sense,” Bishop said. For the first time since meeting Colbrick, he felt a sense of gratitude. After all, who else would be helping him carry Angela? He shuddered at the thought of not having any help, and although he was out of breath and sore amongst these new arrivals, he was glad to be alive.

  They worked upslope, shifting between patches of shade and afternoon sun rays. The incline steepened, and they hiked in switchbacks, the many fallen cedars making it difficult.

  “I need a break,” Bishop said, looking down to Angela, making sure she was OK.

  “Yes, please take one,” Angela whispered.

  They set her gently upon the spongy moss.

  Bishop unbuckled his pack and the air cooled his backside. Colbrick kept his on and squatted, observing the lower valley from which they had climbed.

  “There’s water in your pack,” Colbrick said.

  Bishop reached into the pack
and took a bottle. “We’re going to need more,” he said.

  “Plenty of streams ‘round here. The question is do we trust it after these God damned things sloshed around in it? Those monkeys and dam builders—I imagine they have to shit and piss somewhere,” Colbrick said.

  “So what do we do about it?” Bishop asked.

  “Go into the bottom of that first pocket,” Colbrick said.

  Bishop did and pulled out a device with a hose attached to a small pump.

  “Nice,” Bishop said. “A water filter.”

  “Yup. I got one too. We’re good to go. These will catch any germs which might be swimming around.”

  “You really are prepared, aren’t you?”

  “No man can prepare for this, slick. I just like to collect things.”

  Bishop brought the water bottle to Angela’s mouth, and this time, she squeezed the sides to get more water.

  “How much farther to Big J?” Bishop asked.

  “A few hours,” Colbrick said.

  Colbrick turned, stared downhill, and put a finger to his pursed lips. Below them, far down mountain and emerging then disappearing between gnarled pines, was a line of the monkey-like creatures. Colbrick reached into his pack and pulled out a pair of binoculars. Bishop dug into his pack and found another pair. As Bishop glassed the line of creatures, he realized some of them had russet fur as well as black. They reminded him of huge Guatemalan black howler monkeys, or Alouatta pigra as they were known in the scientific community. His heart thrummed when he heard a faint bleating and then a mad scramble and shrieking as the line of pigras peeled to a central location. They reached into the pile’s center with lanky limbs and bloody, worn knuckles, their backsides covered with shaggy hair, some of them shitting as they grunted and screeched over what was in the center.

  The bleating stopped, and a delicate, light-colored limb emerged from the gang of pigras. The leg of a deer fawn. The pigras shrieked, some of the more perturbed individuals slamming a lone claw into the others, and those stabbed fell to the ground and howled in pain.

  Angela let out a harsh cough as water went down the wrong pipe.

  The pigras ceased all vocalizations, and their heads slowly turned side to side while gazing at the forest. They lifted their moist snouts into the air, their triplicate-pupil crimson eyes shifting as they sniffed and gawked.

  Uh-oh, Bishop thought.

  Angela put a hand to her mouth. Her face reddened as she tried to hold back another cough.

  Colbrick took the butt of his shotgun and cracked her in the head, knocking her out.

  Bishop shook as rage boiled within him. He formed a fist and spun around, then stopped his fist in midair. He wanted to kill Colbrick more than anything, but after rapid thoughts of appropriate responses shuttered through his mind, he knew Colbrick was right. Angela would’ve revealed their location, getting them all killed. He felt horrible. His stomach churned, and his eyes moistened when he looked at her, at how peaceful she was. I’m sorry, sweetheart, he thought. But you’ll be awake soon. And alive. And that’s better than the alternative.

  Bishop and Colbrick observed the pigras as they returned to their line, fresh blood staining some of the faces and soiled tangles of fur. Soon, the pigras lurched northeast, away from them. Bishop sighed. He watched until the last one disappeared behind a patch of ferns.

  “You know anyone in that direction?” Bishop whispered.

  “I knew a few people, “Colbrick said. “But I couldn’t do anything for ‘em.”

  Bishop placed the binoculars back into the pack and clenched his fists.

  “Come on,” Colbrick said. “Let’s get to Big J.”

  Colbrick faced away from Bishop, bent down, and held Angela’s feet in the crooks of his arms. Then he led them in a westerly direction.

  They crested the rugged mountain, only to find even higher mountains awaiting them. These mountains were not the highest in Montana, but they attained such a height that the trees on the upper slopes grew stunted and windblown—their branches all facing east from years of violent gusts.

  “How much farther?” Bishop asked.

  “You sound like a kid in the backseat,” Colbrick said.

  “Yeah, I guess I do. But that doesn’t change the question.”

  “You see those mountains?” Colbrick asked.

  “You mean the Apex Mountains?” Bishop said.

  Colbrick turned his head and raised an eyebrow. “Very good. I didn’t think too many of you slicks knew what the ranges were up here.”

  “I’ve been coming here all my life,” Bishop said. “I’m not your average Main Street touron.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Colbrick said. “You see that flat piece of land in front of the Apex’s there?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s Big J.”

  “Shit. That’s at least several miles away.”

  “You got a better idea?”

  “Hell no. Just venting.”

  “Ain’t nothing wrong with that. A man’s gotta vent somehow.” Colbrick looked down to his shirt pocket. “Son of a bitch,” he said.

  “What’s wrong?” Bishop asked.

  “I must have lost my shades.”

  Bishop held back a snicker.

  They proceeded down the mountain. This was more difficult than climbing, for placing your foot in a downward position on the slick moss and moist rocks was far more treacherous.

  “Careful,” Bishop said as they sent sticks and rocks tumbling. Bishop paused and glanced down at Angela to make sure she was OK.

  Angela stirred as her bottom scraped against boulders and fallen timber. A chunk of rock tumble down slope. Bishop glanced at Colbrick’s feet to see how it was displaced, but Colbrick was standing on moss. Colbrick crouched and pointed to a pile of rocks thirty yards ahead. Bishop kneeled, keeping Angela’s head off the moss while following Colbrick’s finger.

  Something flashed behind the rocks.

  A creature blinked back with eyeballs the size of doorknobs. It had a sharp, yellow beak and a thin neck which led to whatever lay hidden behind the rocks. Its pupils were tiny, leaving way too much white. Above the eyes grew a tuft of brown feathers. The bird ducked below the rocks and they remained still, only to see the weird bird peek out again, its oversized eyeballs elevating like two unusual sunrises.

  “What the heck is that?” Bishop whispered.

  “How the hell am I supposed to know?” Colbrick asked.

  The bird let out an energetic chirp, starting low and calm then escalating into an ear-piercing ring that reverberated across the mountain. The tuft of feathers on its head quivered with each call.

  Angela blinked.

  “Bishop, what…is that thing?” she asked.

  “I don’t know, sweetheart.” Bishop wanted to blurt it all out, to tell her everything they’d encountered. He had to be honest with her. She was going to find out soon enough. A protective instinct wanted to shield her from the things he saw, but it wasn’t fair. Bishop cleared his throat and met her eyes. “I do know these mountains are infected with many new species—kinds we’ve never seen before. Do you remember the thing that dragged you away at the cabin?”

  “Yes.”

  “While you were out I saw more things, and so has Colbrick. But we’re going to get out of this, do you understand?”

  “I don’t need a pep talk, Bishop. I’m a big girl.”

  Bishop turned away, embarrassed.

  “I’m sorry,” Angela said. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just need a place to rest. Also, I could really use some freaking painkillers, honey. My cuts…they itch so bad.”

  Colbrick gave them a dirty look while holding a finger to pursed lips. The weird bird disappeared behind the rocks, and they heard stones skittering and feet scratching as it moved down mountain.

  “Where did these things come from?” Bishop asked.

  “Again, how the hell should I know?” Colbrick said. “But wouldn’t it be nice if like in
the books and movies we ran into a scientist or some random billion dollar bunker full of expensive lab gear to explain everything?”

  Bishop laughed, and even Angela let out a chuckle.

  “Shit ain’t like that,” Colbrick said. “We aren’t going to find a God damned scientist, and there’s no super fancy bunker with groups of people waiting to explain everything to us. If we’re lucky, we might be able to piece together some clues, but I get the feeling that’s about it.”

  “I know a bit about nature,” Bishop said. “So does Angela. There’s also Great Prairie Air Force Base.”

  “That’s four hundred miles from here,” Colbrick said.

  “We need to find a car,” Bishop said.

  “And if we do, what’s to stop us from driving right into those dam builders again?” Colbrick asked.

  “You mean the frequency seals,” Bishop said.

  “Glad you took the time to give them a name,” Colbrick said.

  “Well, that’s what they are.”

  “What’s a frequency seal?” Angela asked.

  “Trust me, you don’t want to know,” Bishop said.

  “Try me,” Angela said.

  “Alright. It’s a creature with six limbs, a slug tail tipped with a saw-like blade, and it builds enormous earthen barriers. Oh, and they also stun you with some sort of frequency.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Bishop.”

  “OK, sorry.”

  Colbrick grinned and took Angela by her feet.

  The strange bird rustled ahead of them as they worked down the mountain.

  “It’s keeping an eye on us,” Colbrick said. “If it sticks much longer, I’m going to shoot it. I don’t want it giving us away.”

  “I don’t think it’s evil,” Angela said.

  “Every creature we’ve seen has been,” Colbrick said.

  “Maybe there are a few good ones,” Angela said.

  More rustling and scraping from below.

  “It’s starting to get on my nerves,” Colbrick said.

  “Honey, he’s right. These things aren’t friendly, OK?” Bishop said.

  “It’s not doing anything wrong,” Angela said. “Don’t you shoot it.”

  Colbrick grunted and mumbled something under his breath. Bishop pretended he didn’t hear it.