The Invasive 2: Remnants Page 6

  Colbrick backed off, and the leaf relaxed, then continued chewing the rope.

  Angela rolled her eyes.

  All at once, the food sack crashed to the ground. The rotten leaf stepped off the tree, and used its odd shape to slow its decent, where it promptly began rummaging through the sack.

  Colbrick lunged at it, but Angela held his shirt. “No,” she said.

  The leaf looked up from the sack, right at Colbrick, and chortled.

  Colbrick grimaced, and gripped his sawed-off. “Son of a bitch,” he said.

  Even Yutu had stopped growling at this point.

  Colbrick threw up his hands. “Guess I’m the only one that hates this son of a bitch,” Colbrick said. “And where is the doctor’s gear? Shouldn’t it have picked this up?”

  “He probably turned it off,” Bishop said. “Those things eat batteries.”

  The rotten leaf disappeared into the bag, and in the night, the red tag flashed muted behind the cloth. A second later, the leaf backed out, carrying an entire graham cracker with it.

  “Aw, it went right for the best snacks,” Colbrick said.

  The leaf turned and scurried out of their camping area. Colbrick went to chase, but the leaf was too fast, dragging the giant graham cracker behind it as it chortled.

  Colbrick spit. “Dang,” he said. “Almost.”

  Angela put her head onto Bishop’s shoulder and pounded her fist on his chest, twice. “Colbrick, you poor man,” she said.

  Bishop did all he could to keep from laughing at his friend. Colbrick really did have a way with animals.

  Maybe.

  Bishop repaired what was left of the food sack, and re-hung it with Angela’s help. This was still grizzly country after all, and proper bear etiquette must be maintained at all times.

  As much as you didn’t want a rotten leaf in your camp, you really didn’t want a grizzly bear, Bishop thought. Even Yutu’s food and treats were in the sack. That’s just how it was.

  Yutu followed Bishop and Angela into their tent, and curled up at their feet again. Within seconds, Colbrick was snoring like a bear.

  “God,” Angela said. “I so wish I had fallen asleep first.”

  Bishop chuckled. But his chuckle masked his real feelings. He knew, deep down, that they were all in trouble. And by “they,” he didn’t just mean his friends and the valley.

  He meant the planet.

  Apex National Forest, The Alpine Lands (75 BPM)

  The group woke at 6 a.m., and packed up camp. Bishop was not pleased with his state of mind thanks to what they’d done to the guards. He figured comeuppance was headed his way, he just didn’t know what yet.

  The massive peaks of the Apex Range blocked the morning sun, creating what was known as “photographer’s light.” Bishop had never seen these mountains so beautiful.

  Once they’d gathered their things, the group strapped into their packs and headed down-trail. Dr. Avery led the way, wearing his headphones and pointing the telemetry device. The air smelled clean, with hints of pine and blooming flower.

  Yutu hung back, occasionally checking their six and wagging his tail. Colbrick puffed on a cigar, sometimes mumbling to himself. Of what, Bishop had no idea.

  Soon, they reached a jumble of boulders and talus. Dr. Avery stopped hiking, and slowly pivoted towards Bishop.

  “We have contact,” Dr. Avery said.

  “How close?” Bishop asked.

  Dr. Avery held up the tracking screen on the device’s receiver as Bishop’s heart thudded. “A quarter-mile downslope,” he told Angela, “headed in our direction.”

  “Jesus,” Angela said. “How many? They seem to be funneling towards Werner’s experiment areas.”

  Dr. Avery read his telemetry screen: “At least one with a tag, 75 BPM. Could be others. We have no way of knowing—”

  Dr. Avery started missing his words, and the telemetry gear trembled in his hands, then clattered to the rocks.

  Yutu barked over and over, his rancorous barks slowly twisting into yelps, and the poor dog’s lips quivered and ticked upwards.

  “Seals!” Colbrick shouted.

  Bishop reached for his .357 and spun around, but movement was like fording jello. Soon, the .357 shook in his hands, and clanked to the rocks. Before he collapsed to the ground, he glimpsed two frequency seals, well-hidden in a talus crevasse. They almost seemed to relish inflicting the frequencies on the group, their chest markings flaring up in a different shade of brown as the frequencies intensified.

  Bishop was able to turn his head and find Angela. She contorted on the talus, cutting her elbows and triceps.

  “A-a-a-nnngel-a-a,” Bishop stuttered.

  Her eyes rocked back in her head, and her upper lip ticked wards. Colbrick and Dr. Avery were the same. Bishop watched in horror as the two seals lumbered their way towards him. He so badly wanted to reach for his .357 and pull the trigger on these two assholes, but he couldn’t even feel his arms.

  As the seals leaned in to tear him apart with their sandpaper mouths, Bishop caught a hint of movement on a ledge above the crevasse.

  A mountain lion.

  Unseen by its prey, the lion leapt upon the first seal and delivered a neck-breaking bite as the seal squealed. The second seal whipped around and honed its frequencies on the lion. The lion hissed, as its upper lip began to tick up, and it backed away. With sensation returning to Bishop’s arms, he seized his .357 and fired point-blank into the back of the remaining seal’s head. A burst of blood clouded the air, then evaporated. Bishop shot the first seal for good measure, and turned his attention back to the mountain lion.

  But the mountain lion had disappeared.

  Once he was certain they were safe, Bishop tended to Angela. “You okay?” he asked.

  “I’m fine,” she said. “Just sore as heck.”

  Bishop helped her up, and checked on Yutu, who seemed fine. Colbrick was already up and shaking it off, so much so he lit up a cigar. “Ain’t nothing,” he said. “Ya get used to it, amiright?”

  “Speak for yourself,” Dr. Avery said.

  Angela bent over and offered Dr. Avery her hand. “You okay, Doc?” she asked.

  “They really pack a punch, don’t they?” Dr. Avery said. “My gosh, I’ve never felt anything like it. Worse than a lab electronics mishap, I’d say.”

  “Let’s not play patty cake yet, folks,” Colbrick said. “We still have another seal near us.”

  Dr. Avery shook his head as if it would rattle away the frequency cobwebs, and splashed cold water from his canteen upon his face. ‘We don’t know if that’s a seal,” he said. “Could be a more benign species.”

  “Welp,” Colbrick said. “I ain’t sticking around to find out.”

  Angela tossed Yutu a treat from his vest backpack, and he snapped it up mid-air.

  “Good boy,” she said as she patted him.

  Dr. Avery recovered his telemetry gear, and pointed it downslope. Then he shook the readout display as if it was acting funny, and turned to the group, pale as Monterey cheese.

  “It’s behind us now,” he said.

  A grunt came from the trees. Bishop wondered if it was the elephant-like creature that had injured him during the first invasion. He wasn’t about to hang out and see. “Move,” he said as he ushered the group down the slope and deeper into the pine trees. “We have no idea what this is, but it’s big. Really big.”

  The group hurried down the trail to Big J, with Dr. Avery holding the rear and employing his telemetry device.

  “It’s still behind us,” he said. “Thirty yards or so. 75 beats per minute.”

  A branch cracked, and a big animal snorted from the area they’d just descended from.

  “Faster,” Bishop said.

  Another branch cracking, something big speeding through the forest understory.

  “Go,” Angela said. “Oh my God, go.”

  Yutu barked and circled the group, acting as a defensive guard. Bishop admired the dog’s bravery
, but feared losing him yet again.

  More branches cracked and snapped, and Bishop face-planted over a log. Sharp pain knifed through his jaw and the right side of his skull. Angela helped him up, despite the world swimming on him.

  “Come on,” she said.

  “No time for lollygagging, slick,” Colbrick said. “We got us a hot one on our six.”

  “Fifteen yards now,” Dr. Avery said as his telemetry gear beeped.

  At last, Big J Meadow appeared through the trees below. Bishop knew they’d make it. They MUST make it.

  “It’s almost on top of us,” Dr. Avery said.

  Another branch cracked, and an awful warbling call emitted from behind them.

  “We gotta fight it,” Colbrick said. “Ain’t no out runnin’ it.”

  Colbrick stopped, turned, and aimed his shotgun at the thing following them, or where he expected it to emerge.

  Except the animal didn’t emerge there.

  At all.

  To the east of Colbrick, a wobbly bird the size of an ostrich flashed its colorful plumage, and tilted its head at Angela and Bishop.

  Angela’s eyes grew misty, and Bishop put his arm around her shoulders.

  “It’s okay, babe,” he said.

  But even Bishop had trouble digesting the moment.

  This was the bird that had saved them at the Hoodoos. He had no doubt.

  Bishop held out his hand, and the bird approached.

  “Remarkable,” Dr. Avery said. “Just a wonderful specimen.”

  The goofy bird stopped halfway to Bishop, tilted its head and ogled them, then licked its beak.

  “What do you want, you big goof?” Angela asked.

  Yutu crept up to the bird and tried to sniff its leg, but the bird kicked Yutu away, who seemed unfazed as he continued to sniff.

  Angela reached out her hand. To Bishop’s surprise, the bird allowed her to pet its plumage, and then emitted a cat-like purr while closing its eyes halfway.

  “Unbelievable,” Dr. Avery said.

  Angela was shaking. Bishop felt terrible for her.

  “Thank you so much for saving us last time,” she said. “We couldn’t have done it without you.”

  The bird purred more, and stomped its feet twice onto the forest floor.

  Voices emerged from Big J Meadow. Angry, male voices. And Bishop knew exactly what and who they were.

  “U.S. Special Security,” the voices said. “Come down here at once, or we will be forced to make less pleasant decisions.”

  The bird’s eyes widened, and it disappeared upslope into the woods.

  Oh how Bishop wished he could too.

  Big J Ranch (85 BPM)

  As soon as the group hit the southern end of Big J Meadow, a military jeep sped towards them, then skidded across the dewy grass to a stop. Three armed military personel exited the vehicle, and pointed expensive-looking rifles.

  “Show us your hands,” the closest soldier said.

  “May I set my equipment down first?” Dr. Avery asked.

  “Just fucking drop it,” the soldier said.

  Dr. Avery did, and one of the antenna prongs busted off in a metallic crunch. In the confusion, Yutu bolted back into the trees, and disappeared.

  “Good boy,” Angela whispered.

  Bishop moved closer to his wife. “He’ll be okay,” he said.

  “It’s not him I’m worried about,” she said.

  The lead soldier stepped towards Colbrick and untethered a pair of handcuffs while the other two kept their weapons aimed.

  “Hands behind your back,” the soldier said, as he proceeded to cuff Colbrick.

  “Careful, I have sensitive wrists,” Colbrick said.

  Next came Angela, Dr. Avery, and Bishop. The cuffs were cold and dead on his wrists. There’d been too many dismaying moments lately, but this one was especially depressing. He checked Angela, and she gave him a cheer-up look, one he had seen often in the last year.

  “On your knees,” the soldier commanded as he fired up his radio. “HQ6, we have the suspects,” he said. “Home address, as predicted.”

  “Copy that, Team 4,” another man’s voice said through the static. “Inquisitor arriving shortly.”

  Inquisitor? Bishop thought. And then it made sense. They were to be interrogated. How fun.

  “You can’t just detain us without reading us our rights,” Angela said.

  “Ma’am, we’re the United States Armed Forces. We can do whatever the hell we want,” the soldier said.

  Bishop caught movement behind the guards, back near Big J. It was Adah, her long black hair blowing in the breeze as she rounded the lodge’s corner to see what was going on. She waved, then pointed at herself, and ran back to where she’d come from.

  Good, Bishop thought.

  Colbrick spit. “Welp,” he said. “Mind if I at least smoke a cigar?”

  “Not permitted,” the soldier said.

  “Well shit,” Colbrick said.

  The lead soldier, a shorter man, but stocky and powerful got to one knee and grinned. “You all are going to sit tight right here. You’ve got a few questions coming your way, about why you pulled on U.S. military personnel.”

  A fist of anger rose up Bishop’s throat. “Or maybe you can answer our questions,” he said. “Like why U.S. military personnel pulled their weapons on civilians for no apparent reason?”

  The guard smirked. “Oh my,” he said. “You don’t get how this works.”

  Big J Ranch (89 BPM)

  After a half hour of sitting on their knees, the interrogator arrived. He was a tall, thin man, with a sculpted face and the eyes of a lamprey. Bishop had the distinct feeling this was a man who extracted answers when, where, and how he wanted.

  “Good morning,” the man said. “You can call me James.”

  “Oh good,” Colbrick said. “Did you bring us the pancakes we ordered, too?”

  James leaned in, and slapped Colbrick across the face.

  Mistake, Bishop thought as he fumed.

  Colbrick roared to his feet, and bit into James’ neck, then kneed him in the balls. As the soldiers swarmed Colbrick, he managed, without the use of his arms, to body slam James into the ground, eliciting a powerful THUD.

  “Get him the fuck off me!” James screamed.

  The soldiers did, and Bishop was almost startled by the delirious look in Colbrick’s eyes. He thought he’d seen the man run wild before, but this was something else.

  James’ fixed his slicked-back hair with one hand, and adjusted his beige button-up shirt. “You do that again, and you’ll never do that again.”

  James raised his voice. “You’re here because you’ve violated Section A87. Aiming firearms at uniformed officers, with the intent to apprehend them, or cause bodily harm,” he said.

  James studied Bishop. “We have the quite leader right here, don’t we?” he asked. “What were your intentions? What did you hope to accomplish?”

  Bishop said nothing, and instead did his best to blank out James. He thought of Yutu, most likely skirting the edges of the ranch, looking for the right time to strike. But even Yutu was no match against four armed men.

  James reached into the jeep, and pulled out a clipboard with paperwork attached. Then he turned to Bishop. “Your name?” he asked as he held a black pen.

  “You know my name,” Bishop said. “You know where I live.”

  Before James could ask another question, motors roared up Big J Ranch drive. A moment later, a sheriff’s car, followed by several county police trucks rolled in, lights flashing.

  Bishop smiled.

  Adah had done her job.

  The police caravan circled the jeep in the grassy meadow, and the thrum of engines idled for a moment, then died.

  “Thank God,” Angela said as she squirmed her wrists within her handcuffs. Bishop mimicked her, but it was useless. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been put in cuffs, if ever.

  The officers exited their vehicles, led by the
mayor of Elmore, Don Reynolds. Don stood 6’5, and skinny with a handlebar moustache and cowboy hat. He fit the typical stereotype of what tourists thought most Montana’s looked like.

  “What seems to be the problem?” Don asked James, one hand on his hip, the other touching the brim of his hat.

  “They pulled weapons on our men in the wilderness,” James said. He offered his hand, but Don ignored him. “U.S. Special Forces,” he said. “James Hoyt.”

  “I see,” Don said, adjusting his belt on his loose khakis. He turned to Bishop. “That true?” he asked.

  Bishop nodded. “We were watching them experiment on secapods, and they threatened us, so we protected ourselves.”

  Don turned back to James while gesturing to the group. “Why’d your boys pull weapons on Bishop, Angela, and Colbrick here? You know what they did for this place, right?”

  James overly confident demeanor shifted. “No, I don’t.”

  Don chuckled and shook his head. “They saved the place. And the planet in the process. You can’t just go pointing your rifles at heroes, and jumping them up in the mountains for no good reason.”

  James faltered for a moment. “We are under orders—”

  Don interrupted James. “We are not under Marshall Law,” he said. “Your orders apply to those within your unit, not civilians. And whatever in God’s name you’re doing up there, there’s no special set of rules. The Apex Wilderness is a mess. But, son, when you come down into my valley, and point weapons at valley heroes, you’re going too far.”

  Don motioned to the law enforcement officers behind him. “Get them un-cuffed immediately.”

  The officers proceeded towards Bishop and his cuffed friends, and the soldiers stepped in-between.

  James got up in Don’s face. “We have to protect our own,” he said. “I’m sorry, Mayor, but this is what we do.”

  Don pointed a finger at James. “Did your soldiers pull weapons on these civilians in the Apex Wilderness?”

  James clenched his jaw and nodded. “Yes, they did.”

  “First?” Don asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I see,” Don said, leaning in and letting his imposing physical stature do half the talking. “Then this is a simple misunderstanding. You have no grounds to further detain these people. Now step aside; we don’t want this to get any more complicated than it already is.”