8
“There must be a dozen of them,” Loomis said, staring down at the nearest pile of bones. “But what are they doing here?”
Frost didn’t have an answer for that. They certainly hadn’t seen any signs of human habitation during their search thus far. There were no buildings, no cars, nothing to indicate that any people—or anything at all, other than trees...and a dog—had ever lived in this world. This world was barren. A wasteland. Yet the evidence was mounting that it hadn’t always been so. The dog tag alone suggested this devastation took place in the last ten years. She wasn’t sure whether this world’s Dexter was the same as theirs, but the shepherd in their world was ten years old.
A mystery not worth solving,
she thought. They still had a woman to find, and it might not be long before they were somewhere new. Again.
“Let’s keep moving,” she said. “Jillian isn’t going to find herself.”
The eight people from Refuge filed quietly past the remains. As she walked by, Frost noted some charring on the bones that reminded her of the dog skeleton. Perhaps these people had burned to death. The thought brought too many questions with it. What burned them? Why? And perhaps more importantly, could it happen again?
She had no answers, and so she decided to keep her thoughts to herself. No sense worrying the rest of the group; they were jumpy enough already. Except for Dodge. After that first night, the pastor had calmed right down, keeping the doom and gloom to himself. Maybe it was his deathbed promise to Becky. Maybe he was questioning his beliefs. She certainly was. Whatever the reason, she was glad to have Dodge along. Most of the men had reserved spots in the pews every Sunday. She’d seen two of them in the choir last Christmas. The pastor’s calm presence, seemed to put the others at ease. Lord knew, she was having a hard time keeping her own thoughts from running wild. She wondered if Becky had ever felt this wired, while trying to calm down a bad situation.
Probably. But that didn’t help her figure out what to do.
Jillian,
she thought.
Just find Jillian and get back to town before that damn bell starts ringing again.
She squeezed out every other thought, not wanting to be distracted.
Jillian. Save Jillian. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other until we find her. That’s it. Just like that.
She had just reached a large group of rocks when she heard Dodge’s voice behind her.
“What’s that?”
She turned around just in time to see Dodge bend over and pull a slender, rectangular object from one of the bone piles.
He brought the object to his face and blew away a small cloud of dust, revealing a shiny black surface underneath. He rubbed the metallic surface with his sleeve and it shined brightly. “It’s a safe.”
“That’s an awfully small safe,” Silver noted.
“It’s a document safe,” Dodge said, holding it up.
“A what?” Loomis asked.
“A document safe,” Dodge repeated. “One of those little things that people use to lock up important documents: birth certificates, passports, and marriage licenses. Stuff like that. You can buy one at any department store. They’re usually fire proof.”
A document safe?
Frost thought.
Why in the hell would these people have needed a document safe? Just who were they? And how did they get here?
Dodge brought the small box up to his head and gave it a shake. Even from where she stood, Frost heard several things rattling around inside it. It was full. But full of what?
“Hold on,” Dodge said, peering at the top of the box. “There are some initials on it. Looks like…N and F.”
“N and F?” Marshall asked. “Who the heck is NF?”
“No idea,” Loomis said.
NF?
Frost wondered.
Nelson Florider? Could it really be…
Her thoughts were cut off by the sound of a woman screaming.
9
The six of them—Griffin, Avalon, Winslow, Radar, Lisa, and Jennifer Turkette—sat in a large, plushly furnished room with huge, plate glass windows looking out into the dark woods. The room was lit with this world’s eerie yellow glow, thanks to several large skylights above them. Jennifer had called it the ‘solarium,’ which Griffin knew was just a pretentious word for sunroom. But the light did little to lift the dark moods of the people within, mostly because the defuse illumination was yet another reminder that they were no longer home.
Jennifer sat, cross legged, on a cushioned deck chair. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap. Radar and Lisa sat across from her on a wicker chaise, while Avalon and Winslow sat on an identical chaise to the left. Griffin alone remained standing, despite the fact that there were several other chairs in the room. He didn’t want to sit down. Didn’t want to relax. He just wanted to find out what the hell was going on in Refuge.
“How long ago did Ellison leave?” Griffin asked.
“He comes and goes whenever he wants,” Jennifer said. “As I said earlier, I’m just his nurse. I don’t keep track of him.”
“Does he have a secretary?”
“You ever know a rich white man who didn’t?” she replied.
“Is she here?”
“I don’t keep track of
him
, either,” Jennifer replied, emphasizing the gender.
“Great,” Griffin said. “So where does that leave us?”
“Unwelcome, in a house you have no business being in,” Jennifer said with sarcastic grin.
Griffin wasn’t sure if the woman was guilty of anything beyond doing her job, but without Ellison, she was his one and only source of potential information. She didn’t know it yet, but she was a prisoner.
“If Mr. Ellison were here,” Jennifer said, “he’d probably call the police.”
“Good luck with that. Have you even tried your phones?” Avalon asked. “And in case you have a short memory, he—” She pointed at Griffin. “—is the police.”
“Not according to my records,” Jennifer said, tapping the screen of a small PDA. “Sheriff Rebecca Rule has two deputies. Deputy Jim Sweeney and Deputy Helena—”
“Sweeney is missing,” Griffin said. “He was outside town when we shifted. Sheriff Rule died a short time after the second shift. Frost is the Sheriff now, and she appointed me a deputy yesterday.”
Jennifer didn’t seem to have a good response to that. She just frowned and sank deeper into her chair, her inner turmoil playing out in her facial expressions. She had impressive resolve, but the woman would crack. Eventually.
Time to change tactics,
Griffin thought. He sighed loudly and sank into a nearby armchair.
“Look, Miss Turkette,” he began , “A lot of people have already died. Some were killed by the creatures you saw, in that world of darkness. But Sheriff Rule...she was the first. Did you know her?”
The woman nodded slowly. “She came out to the house once.”
“Nice lady, right?” Griffin asked.
No reply.
“When the town shifted a second time, Rule had been outside the town line. She’d just saved Phillip Beaumont and his two daughters. The town shifted while she was crossing the town line. Everything below her waist remained in the desert world, while the rest of her came along for the ride. The shift
cut her in half
. Chopped her into two big pieces, cauterizing the wound like a red hot blade.”
He watched Avalon squirm. She hadn’t heard the story in such detail before. When she started wiping away tears, he had to fight against his own. “She was one of my closest friends.” He motioned to Avalon. “Babysat my girl for most of her early life.”
“My wife was stung,” Winslow added. “By giant wasps. She might not make it.”
Jennifer’s head came up. “Carol?”
Winslow looked surprised. “You know her?”
“She brought cookies...at Christmas.”
Winslow nodded, his eyes closed. “Of course she did. Well, that woman that brought you cookies, who probably invited herself in to chat while you ate them… She was willing to sacrifice her life to save these kids.” He motioned to Radar and Lisa, who looked more than a little guilty.
“People are dying,” Griffin said. “But they’re also fighting. For each other. For this town. And for you.”
Jennifer’s stern expression faltered. Not much, but it was there. A slight twitch of the eye and a loosening of her frown. That’s what Griffin was hoping for. All he needed was a crack.
“They won’t be the last, either,” he continued. “If we can’t get a handle on this thing, sooner or later, everyone in this town will be dead, including everyone in this room. Even Mr. Ellison.” He stood back up. “If you know something, you need to tell us. It might be your last chance to save some lives. It might be your last chance to save your own life, too.”
The woman looked down at her hands, which were folded neatly in her lap again. “I don’t know much... But I don’t think Mr. Ellison can fix this.”
“Why not?” Avalon asked.
Before she could answer, they heard the unmistakable crack of distant gunfire.
“Shit,” Griffin said. “What now?”
10
Frost poked her head over the top of a large stone and looked down into a rocky crevice. Jillian was thirty feet below. And she wasn’t alone.
“Aww, fuck,” Loomis said as he looked into the crevice. His expletive was followed by a string of others as the group gathered and looked down.
“What are they?” Dodge asked.
Jillian stood in an open patch of dusty ground. Her pants and blouse were torn. A bruise was forming on her exposed right shoulder. Her knees were raw and bloody, and a single, long abrasion marred her left cheek. She was a mess, to be sure, but none of the injuries were life-threatening.
Yet.
Dozens of large creatures lurked in the shadows, swaying back and forth on the floor, clinging to the walls. Just out of clear view. But their hissing was eerie.
“Sound like Sleestaks,” Loomis commented.
Frost had no idea what Sleestaks were, and she didn’t really care. They had to find a way to get Jillian out.
The hazy clouds above shifted, allowing a spear of direct sunlight to pierce the shadows below. The creatures were revealed.
Dozens of large, reptilian beasts. They were stocky and thick, resembling giant Gila monsters—thick powerful bodies and knobby, scaled, orange and black skin. Most stood about two feet high at the shoulder. The largest of them was easily twelve feet from its nose to the tip of its fat, stubby tail. They circled around the woman, their tongues flicking in and out of their wide, toothy mouths. Perhaps more disturbing than the flicking tongues, however, was the fact that no two of the creatures looked exactly alike.
Several of them sported long horns on their heads. Some had three horns, while others had only one or two. Others had no horns at all. The largest of the creatures had three eyes; one on either side of its head and a third in the middle of its face. Another was cyclopean, a single eye right in the middle of its forehead. Two of them had no eyes at all, but turned their heads this way and that, in response to miniscule sounds. One of the creatures that stood farthest from Jillian actually had seven eyes, all scattered around its head, in no particular order.
Some of the creatures had fat feet, while others had thin, birdlike claws. One of them had two tails, while several had no tails to speak of and still others had only thick, stunted nubs. One of the beasts had a spiny membrane along the center of its back that reminded Frost of a dimetrodon, while another bore a foursome of bony spikes on the end of its tail
a-la
stegosaurus. None of the beasts walked upright, but a few had front legs that were significantly longer than their rear legs, giving them an almost upright posture. Frost even spotted one of the beasts with six legs instead of four.
It was a freak show.
Yet for all their physical differences, the creatures were similar in two ways: their overall reptilian appearance, and the fact that every single one of them was facing Jillian.
The creatures surrounded the woman, sniffing the air and making muted chuffing sounds. They reminded Frost of a pack of friendly dogs, moving in to sniff the newcomer. Jillian spun in slow, dazed circles, breathing heavily, like she’d just run a marathon. From Frost’s position on the rocky ledge, she could hear Jillian mumbling something, but she couldn’t make it out.
“What should we do?” Loomis whispered.
“We’ve got to go down there and get her,” Dodge said. “They don’t seem violent.”
Frost had to agree. The creatures didn’t appear very aggressive. They shuffled and chuffed, sniffing the air and watching Jillian, but they made no move toward her.
They’re like big, scaly cows,
she thought. She continued to watch them for a few more heartbeats, then made her decision.
“Okay,” she said. “Loomis, Dodge, you guys come with me. The rest of you, cover us from up here. If things go sideways, start shooting.”
Brent nodded. “Fish in a barrel.”
“And if you hear the church bell, do me a favor and shout a warning before you bolt.”
Brent paled a bit, but nodded.
She turned to look at Loomis and Dodge. “Let’s move.”
Looking for a way down, she found a ledge to the right that worked its way upward while thinning away to nothing about thirty feet up the slope.
No help there.
To the left, the ledge continued on for another twenty feet before ending abruptly in a pile of rocks. They might be able to climb down the rocks, but could they do it while holding on to their rifles? She had two options. Slide down with the weapon over her shoulder. Out of easy reach. Maybe get eaten. Or, slide down off balance and maybe sprain an ankle. She had her handgun, but she wasn’t sure how useful it would be against a mob of otherworldly lizard things. Either option would leave her unable to sprint back to town if the bell began ringing, but only one of them involved being eaten alive.
Cows,
she told herself.
They’re just reptilian—
“Holy shit!” Silver’s voice.
Frost turned around just in time to see one of the creatures—the biggest one—leap closer to Jillian and open its mouth.
A gurgling sound rose from its throat.
The gurgle became a hiss, as compressed, misty air sprayed out...and caught fire.
The next few seconds were the stuff of an Arthurian nightmare. While Jillian screamed, a thin jet of white flame shot from the creature’s mouth and engulfed her legs. Then a second jet of flame shot from the mouth of another of the creatures, which was joined by yet another. In a matter of seconds, no less than half a dozen of them were spitting fire.
Even thirty or so feet above the scene, half concealed by the rocky ledge, the scalding heat rose up and washed over the group, forcing them back and preventing them from helping the woman.
Jillian wasn’t dead. Not yet. Her screams echoed from beneath. Frost peeked over the edge, cringing as the heat prickled her skin. Jillian, now engulfed, writhed below, her movements slowing, but the creatures kept the flames on her, as the sickening smell of burning flesh rose through the air, mixing with the smells of heat and dust.
Frost heard one of the men throw up behind her.
Dodge tried to leap over the ledge. Loomis and Silver grabbed him and held him back. Frost stared, frozen in place, as the woman they had come to rescue slowly turned into a lump of charred flesh.
“Let me go!” Dodge was screaming. “I have to help her!”
“You can’t help her,” Loomis said. “It’s too late.”
“But I told her,” Dodge said, struggling. “I promised I would help her!”
But Jillian, the mysterious ‘Sally Field,’ was dead and gone.
Dodge fell to his knees, weeping in anguish.
The attack had taken less than thirty seconds, during which time Jillian’s body had gone from mostly healthy and whole, to charred and blackened. Still, the creatures kept the flames going.
“What are they doing?” Silver asked. “She’s dead, already.”
They had their answer thirty seconds later, as Jillian’s left leg crumbled into a pile of ashes. The biggest creature closed its mouth, cutting off its fire, and approached the corpse. The other creatures did likewise. Once they reached Jillian’s body, which was now nothing but a pile of oily ashes and charred bones, they began to eat.
“Ashes?” Loomis whispered. “These fucking things eat ashes?”
Could have used them in the dark world
, Frost thought, as she watched the creatures devour the pile of dark gray ash that had once been a woman who meant...something to Dodge. She looked around at the bleak landscape, remembering the piles of scorched bones.
Now she knew what had killed this world.
Dodge shouted in anger, breaking free of Loomis and Silver. He grabbed one of the rifles, took aim and fired a shot, hitting the largest creature just behind one of its three eyes.
The creature dropped like a stone, with a puff of flame from the wound, but dozens of others turned their faces upward, looking at the rocky ledge. Dodge fired again and again, hitting several of the creatures and killing two more, before the rifle’s breech locked open on an empty chamber. He looked blankly at the rifle, screamed something unintelligible, and threw it hard, down at one of the monsters.
Below, several of the monsters squealed long and loudly, as blood poured from small bullet wounds. Those that didn’t die rolled around in the dirt, raising clouds of dust while they shrieked in pain. The ones who died were set upon almost immediately by their brethren, who all seemed to have no qualms about cooking and eating their own kin.
A few of the group joined in the shooting, filling the crevasse with deadly rounds. Several more of the creatures dropped. But many more were there to take their places.
“Stop!” Frost shouted. They were wasting ammunition. Jillian was dead. They could just leave, not waste bullets on revenge. “Hold your fire!”
Movement to her left turned her attention away from the action.
All across the barren landscape, the earth itself seemed to come to life. But it wasn’t the ground. The orange and black mass was alive. The gunfire had drawn even more of the creatures out from their hiding places among the rocky terrain. They began to pour forth from large holes and shadowy alcoves, looking like a nest of ants defending their hill. Everywhere she looked, an army of the things huffed and shuffled along, all heading toward the group of people on the rocky ledge and, she guessed, toward the smell of fresh food.
Fuck me,
she thought.
There must be hundreds of the damn things.
“We have to go,” she said.
Loomis looked up from the spectacle below and caught sight of the massing throng of Gila-things, as well. “Oh, shit,” he said softly. Then louder: “Oh, fucking
shit!
Guys! Look!”
But no one could hear him.
Frost drew her side arm and fired a few rounds around her team’s feet. That got their attention.
The sound of gunfire ended as the rest of the group took in the scene. By this time, the horizon was crawling with giant, orange and black lizards. Here and there, an occasional jet of white flame could be seen. The constant chuffing noises the creatures made merged into one long, scratchy sound.
“We have to go,” Frost said again. “Right now.”
It took a bit of wrestling to get Dodge under control. In his rage, he wanted to run down and batter the army of creatures with his bare fists. But eventually Loomis, Silver and Marshall reined him in. He fought and screamed and threw wild punches for a few more seconds, then slumped in their arms, his energy spent.
He blames himself,
Frost realized.
He’s the reason Jillian was in town when the shift happened. But why?
That matter would have to wait for another day. And a psychiatrist. For now, they just needed to haul ass.
But they weren’t moving fast enough. Dodge’s dead weight was slowing them down. She hurried ahead, stopped in front of Dodge and slapped him hard across the face. “I know you feel bad about what happened—”
“I promised her,” Dodge said.
“Well it wasn’t the only promise you made, was it?” she asked, knowing the question would invoke the memory of Rule’s death. “We need you, too.”
Dodge bit his lips. Hard. And then he shrugged free from the men holding him. “Let’s just get the hell out of here.”
She turned around and started running back the way they’d come. She heard the footsteps behind her as the rest of the group followed.