The Invasive_Pulse Page 7

  “In a way,” Tara said.

  Adir’s voice cracked little as he talked. “They pounded on the door. Pounded on the side of the house, busted a couple windows. I took a couple shots.”

  “Impressive,” Tara said. “Obviously you came out on top.”

  Adir frowned. “I guess you could say that. But it wasn’t because of any skills.”

  “What do you mean?” Tara asked.

  “Something came in the yard after them, something much bigger.”

  Robert perked up. “Did it have wings?”

  Adir nodded. “Giant wings. Flew into the yard, almost knocked over a couple trees. Then it stuck its talons through the ape-things pounding on my house and flew off with them.”

  “At least it was a helpful monster,” Tara said.

  Vermillion whimpered twice and pawed at the windows.

  Robert tried to follow what Vermillion was seeing. At first the shape was only a blur, like a piece of laundry floating in a windswept night. But then the shape drew closer, bigger.

  “What is it?” Tara whispered.

  Robert couldn’t answer. Yet.

  The thing drew closer. Adir, Tara, and Robert aimed their weapons.

  Robert tried to figure out the shape of the thing. It seemed so out of place with what they’d previously witnessed. Robert thought it looked like an ostrich, a twisted sort of ostrich.

  “Don’t shoot,” Robert said as he palmed down Tara’s rifle barrel.

  The bird ogled them through the glass and stamped around the yard in circles.

  “What’s wrong with it?” Tara asked. “It’s acting drunk.”

  A warm night breeze rustled through the aspen trees in the yard. The ungainly bird glanced up.

  Then, all at once the bird lowered its head and shot towards the forest. A blinking red light appeared above the road, moving at a speed and fluidity of something airborne. Dark wings intermittently covered the street lamps, until the massive flier lowered its talons and perched on the lawn.

  “A predator always comes back to where it’s had success hunting,” Adir said.

  Vermillion backed away from the window and gazed up at Robert.

  Tara headed for the door.

  Robert seized her arm. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Killing it.”

  Tara jerked away as Robert put himself between her and the glass door. “You’re gonna get yourself killed instead,” he whispered.

  Tara looked over Robert’s shoulder at the flier in the yard, which fortunately was preoccupied with something at forest’s edge.

  “We can all shoot it,” she said.

  Adir shook his head. “We don’t have the right guns.”

  “Fuck this,” Tara said as she anxiously gripped her rifle. “We have to do something.”

  Robert took a deep breath and wondered if there was anything they could do except seek shelter and wait this out.

  Robert pulled Tara away from the glass porch door. As he did, the low rumble of a truck engine penetrated the evening. Slowly, a pair of headlights swept across the yard, then ceased movement when the driver realized their mistake.

  The flier turned from whatever it had been hunting in the forest, the headlamp beams revealing every inch of it in high-definition.

  The truck squealed in reverse as shouting erupted from the windows. Then the truck swung wildly backwards, chirping off the pavement and smashing into a pine tree.

  The flier rushed forward, folding its wings to increase its lunging speed. It snapped at the metal hood as the occupants inside screamed.

  Robert swung open the door and aimed his .22.

  “Don’t!” Adir pleaded.

  Robert’s rifle cracked and flashed. The flier spun around in a violent arc, then folded its wings and lunged across the yard.

  The truck’s engine roared as the driver flailed for the transmission shifter. The flier turned once more to the struggling truck.

  Robert and Tara fired. Robert had no idea if he’d hit a damn thing until the flier whipped around to face them, knocking down a brace of power lines and shocking itself in the process.

  Once the flier recovered, it turned to face the house. Robert spun to grab Tara, but she was already well ahead of him. The enraged flier sprinted across the yard, snapping off branches from the aspens. The creature opened its mouth and emitted a series of replications in the form of the man’s screams:

  DON’T! DON’T! GET AWAY! FUCK ME! FUCK ME!

  Robert slammed the porch door behind him, just as the flier shattered the glass with its beak and twisted the door off in a single fluid motion.

  A blinding flash of light filled the foyer. Then a an explosion of sound that bullied Robert’s ears into ring-mode.

  Adir stood strong the chaos, pumping shotgun blast after shotgun blast into the flier’s head.

  Robert followed Adir’s lead. Miraculously, the flier retreated back to the roadway and the hapless truck. The driver struggled to free the truck’s front end from a tangle of younger pines. The bumper was hung up on a stump, to Robert’s dismay. The truck made a terrible retching and scraping noise as it tried to pull free.

  The flier, picking up on the noises, screamed them back at its victims.

  Robert and Tara fired upon the flier as it hurled after the truck, but this time, it paid them no mind. It struck the windshield, puncturing the glass with a sick thwack. A gush of blood coated what was left of the windshield with such speed Robert didn’t process it at first. The occupant in the passenger seat flung open the door and stumbled onto the roadway.

  Big mistake, Robert thought.

  He ran to the street and aimed his rifle at the flier. The woman who’d flung herself from the truck tripped and collapsed on the highway dividing line, just as the flier pulled its beak free from the windshield. It spun around, its beak glazed in crimson.

  The woman screamed and finally got to her feet, just as the flier leapt into the air and pounced upon her, pinning her to the asphalt beneath one talon.

  Robert fired his .22 at the thing until he could fire no more. As the trapped woman screamed the flier opened its beak and mimicked her screams.

  Jesus, Robert thought.

  Behind him, Tara opened fire. One of her shots punctured the fliers eye. The creature backpedalled, shook its head, and used the highway as a takeoff strip. Slowly, the blinking red tag on its neck faded into the night.

  Robert hurried over to the woman. Bile rose in his throat as he realized the extent of her wounds. Her grey sweatshirt had been ripped open at her stomach, and was quickly staining with fresh blood. The flier’s talon had penetrated into her digestive system, her intestines slowly unraveling, as if alive. Each raspy breath the woman took made the intestines unravel more.

  The woman looked down at her wounds. Tara leaned over and blocked her view.

  “What h-h-happened?” the woman said, her face almost clown white from blood loss.

  Tara used a sweet, patient voice that Robert hadn’t hear before.

  “You were in an accident, my love,” Tara said. “Tell me your name. I bet it’s a good one.”

  The woman spit up blood and it dribbled down her chin.

  “Andrea,” she said.

  Tara took Andrea’s hand and squeezed as Robert tried to hold the woman’s intestines in place.

  “Do you have children?” Tara asked.

  Andrea begin to tremble as if cold, and her lips relaxed into an easy smile. “Yes. Erica and Holden. The loves of my life.”

  Tara caressed Andrea’s cheek. “I want you to think about them, okay?

  Andrea nodded weakly.

  Robert tried not to heave as he attempted to stop Andrea’s intestines from completely unraveling. The stench of blood, half-digested food, and fecal matter was overpowering.

  Andrea shivered twice, and coughed.

  “Am I dying?” she muttered.

  Tara shook her head and tried to hide her tears. “No,” she said. “You’ll
be fine. Think of your children.”

  Through a series of shivers, Andrea smiled again. Soon the movement in her eyes ceased, and she stared blankly up into a streetlamp.

  Tara let go of her hand and gently closed Andrea’s eyelids.

  “Fuck this,” she said.

  “Help me get her into the house,” Robert said.

  Tara grabbed Andrea’s legs, and Robert carefully tucked his hands under Andrea’s shoulders.

  Halfway across the yard, Robert almost dropped her. Adir lay sprawled under an aspen tree, his hand clutching his chest. Vermillion stood whimpering next to the fallen man.

  But Adir did not move.

  At all.

  Tara set Andrea’s body down gently and ran over to Adir. She slapped his face twice, then took his hand and checked his pulse.

  “He’s dead,” Tara said.

  “How is that possible?” Robert asked as he continued to hold Andrea under the shoulders.

  “Maybe a heart attack,” Tara said. “I don’t see wounds.”

  “This has been such a joy,” Robert said.

  10.

  Tara offered Robert a slug of whiskey, and he took it. The brusque fluid stung his throat and burned his stomach. But he welcomed the softening of his nerves. Tara took another slug and paced the kitchen.

  “We have to do something,” she said.

  Robert shook his head. “The highway is a mess,” he said. “The fliers and whatever else out there are using it as a hunting zone. So escape by car is out.”

  “There has to be a way,” Tara said as he tossed a piece of Wonder Bread at Vermillion.

  In the other room, Adir and Andrea’s bodies lay under blue lawn tarps. Outside, an occasional helicopter whipped the air. And sometimes, faint sirens rang out to the north.

  Over the years, Robert had developed what he considered fine senses. He knew when to fight, and when to lay back and wait things out. Otherwise he never would’ve made it out of Minneapolis. In the vast majority of cases, patience was the key. This was starting to feel like a patience and not a fight scenario. They were simply under-gunned with nowhere to go.

  Tara took Adir’s keys off the kitchen counter and flipped them around her finger.

  “He’s got a 4x4,” she said. “We could go north.”

  “The road is suicide,” Robert said. “And why were those poor people heading south towards Elmore?”

  Vermillion finished scarfing up the Wonder Bread and gazed up at Tara. She tossed another hunk his way.

  Robert gestured to Adir’s house in a sweeping arc. “We should hole up here. Board up what was the front door. Lay low until this thing is over.”

  Tara chuckled. “You mean wait for more of those things to come? To be surrounded like every other place we’ve holed up in? no…just no.”

  “We can’t just drive off,” Robert said.

  Vermillion finished his second piece of bread, then rubbed against Robert’s shins.

  “You can come with or stay,” Tara said.

  Robert looked around Adir’s house as he pondered Tara’s words. The wind breezed into the door-less porch area. A rusty and overgrown swing set creaked in the darkness of the backyard. Vermillion pawed onto Robert’s legs and gazed up at him.

  “What do you think, boy?” Robert asked.

  Vermillion trotted over to what was left of the front door and whimpered.

  “See,” Tara said. “Even Vermillion wants to go.”

  Robert stared out into the night. He wondered what their odds were, wondered if they should even bother starting a car or hike. He scoffed at both choices. It was like choosing between which way you preferred to die: fire or drowning?

  How about neither? he thought.

  “Fine,” Robert said through his teeth. “But we’re going to need supplies.”

  11.

  The decision had been the correct one. As soon as they stepped into the yard, a pair of fliers swooped overhead. Had they started Adir’s truck, they’d all be dead.

  Robert, Tara, and Vermillion trudged west through the forest, using starlight to guide their way. Far off in the distance, a police siren wailed.

  “The police are on their way,” Tara said.

  The low hum of far off V8 engines loudened into a roar. Soon, red and white lights flashed through the woods, casting the vegetation in otherworldly glow. Robert figured there must be a good forty yards between them and the highway.

  Tara bolted for the asphalt.

  “Don’t,” Robert said.

  The sirens wailed in his ears, deafening him. Vermillion stood firm at his side, ears pointed towards Tara who was now awash in intermittent siren glow.

  The woods lit up, darkened, and lit again. At first it was just Tara, but on the next flash, other shapes appeared in the woods momentarily. Faces, too. The faces of the sloth-like things. They stumbled and leered towards Tara, momentary mirages bathed in red and blue.

  “Hey!” Robert shouted in a blip of darkness.

  When the woods lit again, the sloths lumbered towards him.

  Vermillion wasn’t having any of it. The pooch tore after the sloths, seizing one by the ankle. The thing swiped down with a lone claw, daggering the earth in a haze of red and blue. Vermillion dodged, and the world went black again.

  Robert blinked.

  The woods lit once more, but weaker this time. The roar of V8 engines faded.

  Great, Robert thought.

  He glanced towards the highway, but Tara had disappeared. He wondered if she’d caught up with the police. He didn’t think so. Not this quickly.

  Darkness now, and the growls of Vermillion. Robert put his fingers to his lips and whistled. Ferns and bushes rustled as the pooch hustled back to him. Robert lifted the shotgun he’d taken from Adir and aimed into the darkness.

  The police lights flashed once more, much weaker this time. But the lights were powerful enough to reveal the contorted faces of the sloths, their mouths wide open, their hairy arms reaching.

  Robert fired.

  The things screamed and doubled over. Yet more trudged forward.

  Robert sprinted for the highway, chest heaving as sticks and branches whacked him in the face. He wanted to flip on his headlamp. Sure, he’d see better. But the things could see him better too.

  No time, he thought.

  The police cars faded in the distance as Robert reached the highway. He caught a brief glimpse of siren light tunneling its way south.

  Vermillion pattered across the road, then darted back to Robert.

  Robert stood as still as he could and listened. For a moment all he heard was his heart thudding in his skull. And then the rustling of vegetation, the snapping of twigs.

  They were following him.

  Robert sprinted north along the highway, not daring to call out Tara’s name, for both of their sake. Vermillion sprinted ahead of Robert, his paws pattering the asphalt in perfect rhythm. Robert looked up, just in time to see a blinking red light in the sky, then another. The air above him whooshed, and one of the fliers blared back an imitation of the police sirens.

  As the fliers sped south, he hoped more than anything the officers might be able to fend them off.

  But hope hadn’t visited the Apex Valley this night.

  12.

  Once Robert was sure he’d shaken off the sloths, he huddled behind a patch of ferns with Vermillion. There he caught his breath. Unlike dogs, people had shitty endurance.

  Vermillion gazed up at him and cocked his head.

  “I know boy,” Robert said. “This sucks. We gotta find Tara, fast.”

  Vermillion whimpered and laid his head upon his paws while Robert guzzled water from his canteen.

  Many thoughts shuffled through his mind: the best route, the best place to hide, the best place to avoid whatever these things were.

  As he thought, wind rustled in the pine canopy. The trees groaned and swayed as bits of bark and dried branches tumbled down. Night birds fluttered up from somewhere d
eep in the dark.

  Could stay in the forest, he thought.

  But what about walls? he thought again. Weren’t walls the best way to keep these things at bay?

  No, he thought. Walls are a trap.

  Yes, but a temporary way to keep the things at bay.

  Clarity struck Robert, the way a pair of tired windshield wipers finally clears the grime from a windshield. He knew his best bet was to buy time. And he’d do that by using the forest and structures.

  Robert wondered about Tara. Overhead, the spruce trees groaned in the wind and knocked together. He wished she hadn’t been so stubborn.

  Robert stood and made his way to the highway.

  13.

  After a long hike along the highway and the ever-present pulsing tags deep in the woods, Robert and Vermillion reached Elmore. Cars blocked the street, some blazing afire, others like tombstones, their doors flung open and frozen in time.

  Robert took in the scene, his lungs heaving, his eyes scanning the sky for fliers. Every so often one of the brutes whooshed overhead, its tag pulsing as it zeroed in on prey that had been louder and clumsier.

  Shoot, Robert thought. He’d forgotten something important. It pulled at him, tugged at his side.

  His insulin shot.

  He’d forgotten this entire time. And if he didn’t get it soon, he’d start to seize.

  Robert took a deep breath and made his way to his apartment complex. He fumbled for his key and opened the door. Vermillion scurried up the stairs, checking behind him every few steps.

  “Coming boy,” Robert said.

  Inside his small apartment, Robert’s shoulders eased. Everything was as he’d left it: the record collection, his Santa Fe style rug and the warm burgundy couch. Robert shut the door quietly and headed towards a cupboard in the kitchen. He grabbed a pre-filled insulin shot, bit down on the needle cover, and rolled up his shirt with one hand. A moment later he plunged the needle into his belly fat. He felt no pain. The tiny sensation from this needle paled in comparison to what he’d seen, what he’d encountered.

  When he was done, Robert capped the needle and placed it into a small medical refuse box. Vermillion panted behind him, then trotted up to the cupboard and placed a paw upon the faux-wood.