Event

TWENTY-SIX

Julie placed the plate of scrambled eggs in front of Billy as he pulled the napkin from the bar and placed it on his lap. He looked at the eggs and bacon without much enthusiasm as he yawned.

"Man, that sure smells good."

Billy turned and saw two men standing there. Juan and Carmella Lopez, his mother's cleaning people, were still in the midst of vacuuming and washing the last of Saturday night's dirty dishes. They went stock-still, looking at the two newcomers. One was a small, dark-haired man and the other a big black fellow who stood ramrod straight and smiling. They were dressed totally in black, weapons holstered across their chests and black helmets under their arms.

"Can I help you?" Julie asked suspiciously as she placed a knife and fork in front of her son.

"Well, ma'am, you can if you can serve us what that young gentleman is having," the smaller of the two said as he removed a pair of black gloves.

Julie gave the two men the once-over. They were dirty and, of all things, wore black nylon jumpsuits. Her eyes traveled to the black boots and bloused pants. As she watched, the small man unsnapped his body armor from his chest.

"This is Sunday, we're closed until noon, I'm sorry."

The small man looked around and saw the two cleaning people, then smiled and winked at them. "Yes, ma'am, that's exactly what the sign said in the window. But the sergeant and I would forever be in your debt if you could give us something that's not freeze-dried and full of sand."

"Marines?" she asked, noticing the word freeze-dried and the outfits.

"Not on your life, ma'am," the taller, black man said, not smiling a bit.

"Special Operations Group, Mrs....?" the smaller of the two started to ask.

She watched the two men for a moment, seeing the dirty faces around clean spots where goggles had previously been. She knew they had come in from the desert, because her son always had the same dirty face after riding around in the scrub.

"You don't look too special to me, and it's Ms."

The man stepped to the bar and looked at the boy, then down at his plate of food. "Hi, there, my name's Ryan," he said as he looked from the boy to his mother. "Well, my mama said I was special," he said in answer to her statement. "What's your name, little man?"

"B... B... Billy," he stuttered.

"This is my son, and I would appreciate you talking with me and not him," Julie said.

Ryan flinched. He was not used to having a woman come down on him that quickly, at least until they knew him a little better.

"Sorry, ma'am, didn't mean any harm." He brought his right hand up and lightly touched his chest. "I'm Lieutenant Jason Ryan, United States Navy." Then he stuck his hand out to the woman. "The prideful army-type fella behind me is Staff Sergeant Mendenhall."

Julie looked at the outstretched hand, then wiped her hands on the apron tied around her waist, then took the lieutenant's hand in her own and nodded over Ryan's shoulder at Mendenhall.

"Looks like no navy uniform I've ever seen, and I apologize, we're kind of on edge around here," she said, arching her left eyebrow.

Ryan looked down at his dusty black nylon jumpsuit, then the holstered nine-millimeter pistol. "Oh, this old thing." He looked up and met her green eyes. "Doing some fieldwork out there." He gestured out the window and into the desert beyond. "We're the good guys, really."

"What'll you have?" Julie asked in defeat.

"You mean you're open?"

"No, we're still closed, but I can make you something because the grill's still hot. Does your quiet friend want something?" she asked, going through the batwing doors that separated the kitchen from the bar.

"Yes, ma'am, eggs over easy and sausage would be fine, and some coffee if you have it," Mendenhall answered.

Ryan set his helmet on the long mahogany bar and pulled up a stool next to the boy. He heard and felt Mendenhall do the same to his left. Jason nodded at the boy. "Going to be some loud noises here in about ten minutes," Ryan said quietly, and winked.

Billy paused with a forkful of scrambled eggs halfway to his mouth and looked at the man in the funny suit. "Really?"

"Really. Going to be some very big planes setting down on Highway Eighty-eight right out there just about a half mile from town." Ryan looked at his filthy face in the mirror behind the bar.

As of one-half hour from now, the small town would be under quarantine. No one would be allowed in, and for the time being, no one would be going out until escorted out by armed security and placed in a safe hotel far, far away in Phoenix.

"All of this is for whatever's out there?" Billy asked, pointing toward the window with his now empty fork.

Ryan and Mendenhall exchanged looks, then Ryan smiled and looked down at the boy seated to his right.

"Out there?"

Billy took a drink of the milk his mother had given him. When he set the glass down, a nice white milk mustache covered the boy's upper lip.

"Yeah, whatever it is that's out there," he said, exasperated at the slow wit of the navy guy.

"You think something's out in the desert?" Jason asked.

Billy glanced at the batwing doors and heard his mother out in the kitchen making cooking noises. Then the boy just shrugged his shoulders and slid off the stool. "I have to go now," he said, grabbing an off-road helmet from the table behind him.

Ryan looked at the sergeant again, then back at the young boy. "Come on, you saw something out there?"

Billy placed the helmet on his head, squishing his ears against his head as he did so. "That's what I mean, mister, I haven't seen anything"

"What do you mean by that?" Mendenhall asked, leaning back on the barstool.

Billy stopped and turned. "Late yesterday I seen a whole bunch of rabbits and coyotes running away from the mountains, and since then I haven't seen anything, not even birds. It's like they were scared of something." The boy shrugged his shoulders, then walked out of the dining area.

"Hey, you stay close by because--"

But the boy wasn't listening. He was already through the door.

The two men were quiet as they watched the boy leave the bar and grill. Then they turned and Mendenhall shrugged.

Julie came through the door with two platters. She set them down in front of the two men and slapped napkins with silverware rolled up inside beside the two heaping plates. Then she wiped her hands and looked out of the large window in time to see Billy leave on his ATV.

"Damn, that looks good," Jason said.

"You didn't say how you wanted your eggs, so I just made them like I made the sergeant's" Julie said to Ryan, reaching for the coffeepot under the bar.

"Well, you guessed right," Jason replied, diving into his eggs and sausage.

As the two men ate their breakfast, Jason noticed a man on the television set above the bar. He was holding a microphone to his silent lips, with a caption below it that read, Capitol Building, Phoenix, Arizona.

"Ma'am, could you turn that up?" Ryan asked Julie.

Julie reached up and turned up the volume on the television set.

"... said the disappearance of the two state troopers has law enforcement agencies statewide on the alert. Now Eyewitness News has learned of a possible military deployment to the mountains just northeast of the small town of Chato's Crawl. What this means is anyone's guess, but there is a rumor starting from the halls of the capitol stating there may be some sort of outbreak among cattle in the nearby area. This is Ken Kashihara, Channel Seven, Eyewitness News, at the capitol building in Phoenix. Back to the newsroom."

"Well, that's got to please everyone from the president on down," Mendenhall said.

"Just what are you guys doing out there? You helping look for those bikers and state troopers?" Julie asked, hands on her hips.

Before Ryan or Mendenhall could think of what answer to give her, a thunderous roar filled the interior of the bar. Mirrors shook and glasses clinked and chimed as Juan and Carmella, who had been dusting around the green-felt-covered pool tables, turned and grabbed for Julie's antique storm lamps. Then the two cleaning people crossed themselves and cowered in the far corner by the dance floor.

Ryan swallowed the last drop of coffee in his cup and threw two twenty-dollar bills on the counter, then stood.

"Thank you, ma'am, it was delicious. Have to go to work now," he shouted over the noise. "I'll stop back by if that's alright with you, I like the way you cook." Ryan turned and followed the sergeant out the front door.

Julie ran to the window and watched the two men climb into a Humvee. The vehicle tore out of the parking area and headed out of town. She shook her head in amazement at the forwardness of Ryan, but pleased for some reason, she had to smile as the noise that surrounded the small town continued to grow louder. Then she looked to the right and left and saw both patrons and owners alike empty out into the street eager to find out what was shaking their quiet world on this Sunday morning.

The ten U.S. Air Force personnel Ryan had left on the highway one mile out of town had been busy. They had placed blue and white strobe lights every ten feet on both sides of the highway, and they were now flashing brightly. They were similar to the ones seen at any airport. This part of the highway had been picked for its flatness as there were no large dips, and it looked as if it would bear up under the excessive weight that was to be placed upon it. As Ryan and Mendenhall pulled up, an army specialist from the Event Group staff ran forward and saluted. Ryan returned the salute as he scanned the sky overhead. The security man was wearing a regular army BDU so he would blend in and wouldn't be asked any questions about his real outfit.

"All ready?" Ryan asked.

"Yes, sir, so far no one has entered the landing zone. But we do have a report from a Kiowa scout ship of a state police car heading this way from a dirt road about three miles to the east," the specialist said. "And three news helicopters out of Phoenix coming in from the west. The Apaches won't be here to intercept, sir. They just left Fort Carson and Fort Hood two hours ago."

Suddenly the first giant C-130 Hercules filled the sky, rising over a small hill two hundred yards in front of them. The huge C-130 banked sharply, its left wing seemingly only feet from the top of the rise, and at that moment it suddenly straightened and brought its nose down. Jason had never witnessed an air force combat landing before. The plane was down to a hundred feet before the nose came up. The landing gear exploded downward out of its belly as the wings of the giant plane caught the air. It flared, bringing the nose up suddenly, and the wheels chirped loudly as the "Herky" bird came into contact with the hot macadam of the roadway. The noise increased as the pitch on the sixteen propeller blades was reversed and the flaps popped high on the wing, further braking the great aircraft and slowing it even more. The rear ramp was coming down just as the plane hit the ground, and the brakes screamed as it came to a stop.

Immediately troops of the 101st Airborne Division ran deliberately down the ramp carrying equipment and weapons. Ryan was approached by a man wearing a tan desert BDU. His helmet was the same Kevlar German-type Ryan himself had been wearing the night before.

"You Lieutenant Ryan?" the man yelled over the noise of the aircraft.

"Yes, sir." Ryan saluted.

"Lieutenant Colonel Sam Fielding, 101st Airborne advance recon unit," the man said, returning the salute. "I'll tell you right now, mister, I was only authorized ten percent of my manpower for this, and they claim security reasons. Now I expect someone to explain."

They both turned as the thirty-five men of the first unit moved away from the Hercules, followed by a Humvee that shot down the ramp, its fifty-caliber machine gun and TOW missile launcher strapped down for safety while in transport. The plane suddenly revved its four engines to a high-pitched whistling whine while the pilot applied the brakes. Then when the engines were at full power, he released the brakes and the Hercules started its turnout roll. It quickly came up to speed with an assist from eight rockets and was in the air in less than 150 feet, climbing steeply into the sky.

"Colonel Fielding, you can get your men settled just over there, sir. We don't know the full story yet, but my on-site commander is Major Collins, U.S. Army," Ryan said, holding his black helmet against the thrust of the departing Hercules.

"Jack? They have Jack Collins in on this?" the colonel asked.

"Yes, sir."

The man looked around and spit onto the roadway. "Take me to him, young lieutenant," Fielding said. "If Collins is here, then the real skit's here."

The two state troopers were spent after their long night out at the Tahchako ranch counting slaughtered cattle and trying to find out what had killed them.

"Say, what's this?" Dills asked.

Two men appeared in the middle of the road, rifles slung on their shoulders. They wore black and had the same color baseball caps on their heads.

"I don't know, but I smell military," Wasser said from the driver's seat.

The two troopers reached down and unsnapped the straps holding their automatics in their holsters. They stopped a few feet in front of the two waving men.

Wasser opened the door and stepped from the car.

"What's this?" he asked loudly to thefirst soldier.

"Sir, we have an airplane about to utilize this roadway."

"The hell you say!" Wasser replied, not too gently. His sense of humor had left with the thousandth mangled cow part he had viewed the night before.

"Sir?" the soldier asked.

"We can't be havin' planes coming down on state highways, boy," Dills chimed in, puffing his chest out.

The two soldiers looked at each other, then hurriedly moved to the side of the road and knelt down holding their hats.

"Ain't you hearing me, boy? We're not allowing any planes to come down on this or any other highway in this state," Dills said, sunglasses reflecting the morning sun.

"Yes, sir, we heard," the first soldier said.

The two state troopers were suddenly knocked off-balance, and they grabbed the open doors of their cruiser to keep from being thrown face-first into the roadway. Their hats flew from their heads and they dove to the hot asphalt when the noise hit them full force. A windstorm blew sand and scrub brush against their bodies and rocked their cruiser as the giant C-130 touched down two hundred feet in front of them.

After the strangest night shift of his life, Trooper Dills had reached a point where any more input would just swirl around in his mind and not take hold anywhere.

"Jesus Christ, how can I put all this in a report?" Wasser yelled.

But Dills was already up and climbing into the police cruiser, mentally clocking out for the day.

The News 7 chopper was speeding to the scene at Chato's Crawl. The word was out that the army, in conjunction with the State of Arizona, was quarantining the town and closing the airspace within a hundred miles. The race was on to get there before they could enforce it.

As reporter Ken Kashihara watched from the backseat of the newsroom's Kiowa helicopter, he saw below them the blue-and-white Channel 4 bird slightly ahead of them.

"Goddammit, Sydney, I thought you said we were the only ones up in the air. Look at that asshole," Kashihara said, pointing down. "That's that Janice Mitchell bitch from News 4. If I lose an exclusive to her one more time, it's your ass!"

As the pilot started to tell Kashihara to go screw himself, the helicopter was buffeted so hard he thought he'd lost the entire tail boom. He fought to maintain control of the Kiowa as a giant C-130's tail section screamed over them, and then they saw the Hercules turn for the roadway outside Chato's Crawl.

"Goddammit, you see that, you almost got us killed. And for what? Because you got an inferiority complex about that chick from Channel Four!" the pilot said loudly into his mike.

Kashihara was bone-white after the near collision with the Hercules. He looked at the pilot shakily. "Just get me to that town, and watch the fucking road!"

The cavern was from an ancient underground river that had dried up a thousand years before the creature's arrival. It was spacious, and here the beast had chosen to nest. Meat was stored all around the huge cavern, and the smell of blood was heavy as the beast made its way to the birthing chamber where she had collected water. Her distended belly was ripe with the offspring that were only moments away from taking in the food she had waiting for them. They would be born starving.

The beast roared as the first dilation of her exoskeleton began. The thick armor plate protecting the animal's reproductive organs split with a loud crack and widened with a sickening ripping noise reminiscent of tearing paper. The creature slammed its claws into the side of the rock-lined chamber and roared again. Her legs buckled at the knees and she squatted, bringing the dripping birthing orifice close to the water that lay beneath. Slime dripped from the opening, creating a natural lubricant for the young as they fought their way out. The beast screamed and slammed her massive claws again into the rock as the first of the new generation slowly slid out. The purple mass fell free of the mother and into the water below. The hardened eggshell of the baby sizzled as it began to expand. This egg was already cracked open and had the remains of one of the small animals sticking out of it, being eaten by the occupant of the egg. Another fell; again its shell hissed and cracked. The first baby, free of its shell, was already attacking the second egg as the mother reached down and slapped it away. It flew completely clear of the water and next to the gathered food. She would have to repeat this a hundred times in the next hour as she pushed the newborns toward the stored food.

The last of the offspring was the most difficult because of how large it was. By instinct the mother understood that if the creature wasn't expelled quickly, it would eat its way free, thus killing her. The single male left inside was the largest of the offspring and the last to be born. It would be killed by the mother to keep it from mating with other females in the hatching cycle because she carried enough eggs for millions upon millions of generations, and the male she had originally mated with had been enough to fertilize her eggs--she'd synthesized more sperm after her initial mating, copying the cells that were needed to reproduce. But if this male lived, it would kill everything in its path to protect this cycle of females until they too gave birth, to its offspring. It would kill her because she carried and copied another's sperm.

Even the small beings of which Gus's new friend was a part didn't understand the true nature of the horror that they had brought. The beast crushed her clawed hand into her abdomen and tried desperately to expel the male. The small creature was clawing and ripping at her insides until she finally reached into herself and grabbed it. She brought the struggling male up to view. Its shell had already been shed and it had started to form what would become its armor. Its neck armor was already intact and merely held to its neck by a mucous membrane that would soon dissolve. It snapped and hissed at the mother as she roared and tossed the creature hard into the wall of the cave, but failed to kill it.

The two-foot-long male struck the rough wall and immediately gained its feet. It snatched at a female and took it into its claws. It started devouring it even as the mother slapped at it, knocking it farther away into the darkness. Then she started screaming and throwing mutilated cattle toward it.

The male saw its parent in the darkness as it started in on the bloody meat. The yellow and greenish tinted eyes never left its current threat, the mother.

For the next few hours, as the animals grew and learned their abilities, the real Destroyer ate and grew faster, and it continued to stare with hatred at its parent, only shifting its gaze to the others if they came too near it. And coming near it was the last thing its siblings ever did. Soon they would gather around him and him alone, forsaking the parent that had brought them into this world. Then the work of devouring all life on this world would commence.

Riders on the storm, into this house we're born, into this world we're thrown...

-- THE DOORS