Chapter 75
Outside their protective cocoon, directly overhead, a pitched battle raged as the boiling creeper-wave slammed into the swarming locusts.
Grasshoppers tore into flashing creeper stalks, devouring leaves, flowers, tendrils, thorns—everything!
The surging creeper lashed out—left, then right—but was helpless to defend itself against the plague of locusts. They swarmed and ate and swarmed and ate—airborne piranhas, stripping life and limb from everything in their path.
An hour later, it was over. The desert was flattened, like a nuclear bomb had been detonated.
Nothing was left except sand and silence.
The sound of
scraping metal
broke the calm as the hatch on the water tank clanged open. Sam poked his head out, took a tentative look around, and then called to the others, “It’s over.”
He emerged from the hatch, dropped to the ground, and stared out awestruck at the denuded landscape. He took a step, then stopped when a
crunching
filled his ears. Dead grasshoppers carpeted the ground—their broken and ruined bodies already returning to the soil from whence they sprang.
“Sam,” Laura said, her head appearing in the hatch.
“It’s okay.” He went to the tank, took her arm, and helped her out.
“Thank God…” she said, stepping onto the ground.
Sam was about to release her, but then he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. They kissed again—holding each other—happy to be alive.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Curley said, watching them from the hatch.
“Nothing,” said Sam, releasing her.
“Hmm. It didn’t look like nothing.”
“Come on, Curley. Get out of there and help me with the others.”
Sam, Laura, and Curley helped the others out of the tank, all of them amazed by what they saw—and all of them grateful to be out of the dark, humid enclosure.
“
Jesus H
,” Karl said, looking at the naked landscape. “I can’t believe we survived.”
Tommy bent down and retrieved a dead grasshopper, holding it up for Karl to see. “You can thank these little buggers.”
Karl looked at the grasshopper, then nodded.
“They’re actually good to eat—considered a delicacy in some parts of the world,” added Tommy.
“Oh, stop,” Carla said. She took the grasshopper and threw it down. “You’ve never eaten a grasshopper.” Then she gave Tommy a big kiss.
Sam and Laura stood side by side, staring out at the desert—collecting their thoughts—still not believing what lay before them.
“Well,” Laura said, “My dad always was kind of a showoff.”
Sam looked at her. Then they broke into laughter.
Donnie shuffled out of the truck, his feet making a trail through the litter of grasshoppers. He stopped, then turned in a slow 360.
“Fuck me.”
“Been there, done that,” Kristin said, giving a teary-eyed Maya a hug, seeing if she was okay. Maya sniffed and wiped her chin, laughing in spite of herself at Kristin’s comment.
“Put those down!” Mrs. Grogan yelled, waving to Billy and Josh who were busy collecting dead grasshoppers, both of them ignoring her.
Mrs. Grogan was about to yell again when a loud
squawk
caused everyone to wheel towards the Jeep. Another squawk, and Darwin flapped out, scattering grasshoppers and landing on the roof.
“Darwin!” Kristin yelled, running to greet the macaw.
Good bird
, Sam thought to himself, glad to see Darwin had survived.
And then something miraculous happened…
The sun came out.
The clouds lifted. A palpable wave of relief swept through the group. Everyone was grateful for the warm, life-giving rays that flooded down, lifting their spirits and drying the soaked earth.
Chapter 76
Battered, windowless, but still running, the deuce and a half—with the Jeep and the tow truck following—rumbled up to the edge of downtown Furnace Valley. They were immediately stopped by a CHP officer who dropped out of a Chevy Tahoe with flashing lights, his hands held high, indicating for them to stop.
Behind the officer, Caltrans plows were busy clearing the road of grasshoppers as two more CHP vehicles rolled into town.
Overhead, a sheriff’s helicopter circled, then banked away towards Big Caliente Hot Springs.
Amazingly, the town was mostly intact. Some of the smaller houses on the outskirts had been flattened, plus the water tower, but Nguyen’s Place was still standing—and Eller’s Garage had survived, too.
Sam and company dismounted their vehicles and were met by the officer, who looked amazed to see them.
“What are you doing out here?” he said, stepping up to Sam and Laura.
“We live here,” Sam said. “Furnace Valley is our home.”
The officer stared at Sam. Then he said, “Okay—maybe you can tell me what-in-the-hell happened out here? I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Just as Sam was about to explain, Curley lurched up—and in a rush of words blurted:
“There were these huge man-eating plants. They had octopus arms, but instead of suckers they had these thorns and they would grab you and wrap you up and suck you dry. They were everywhere—the hills, the valley—everywhere. Sam tried to kill them with Karl’s biplane, but he crashed. The plants got Doc and Lester and Rufus and a hippie and some guy named Spider. And they almost got
me
. Then they bloomed and it rained. And then the grasshoppers came. Millions of them. Then we hid in the water tank—and when we came out—they were gone. Everything was gone. The grasshoppers ate
everything
.”
Curley stared at the officer, catching his breath, waiting for him to respond.
The officer frowned, then turned to Sam with a skeptical,
give-me-a-break
look. But Sam was nodding in agreement.
They were
all
nodding.
“Yep,” Sam said. “That’s what happened.”
* * *
An hour later, Tommy and Carla were busy sweeping out the store with Darwin supervising from his favorite spot in the rafters. Karl and Curley had gone to check on the garage. Kristin, Donnie, Maya, and the Grogans were being loaded into CHP vehicles for transport back to Los Angeles.
Next to the store, Sam and Laura stood together, an awkward silence surrounding them as they tried to say goodbye.
So many things left unsaid
.
“Anyway…” Laura said, looking suddenly very uncomfortable.
“Laura…” Sam said, scrambling for the right words.
Any words
. But they wouldn’t come.
“I should probably go,” she said, pointing to the waiting CHP vehicles.
“Oh, yeah, right… Yeah, you should go.” But everything inside him was screaming,
I can’t believe you’re leaving! Don’t go! We should be together!
“I told them about my father. About
Doc
. They’re going to send a coroner up to his place and have the remains sent to L.A. I’ll let the family know.”
Sam nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense.”
“Sam…” she reached out and put a hand on his arm. “I thought I came out here to make some sort of peace with my father. But that’s not true. I came out here to confront him. I came out here to tell him what a jerk he was for abandoning me and my mother, for walking out on us when I was a baby. I wanted to say it to his face. I wanted to hurt him like he hurt me.”
Sam reached up, took her hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“Now that he’s dead—all that anger, and all those feelings of wanting revenge, have drained away. I just feel sad. Not for myself, for
him
. For what he missed.”
“It sounds like you might be ready to forgive him.”
She looked at Sam, nodded. “Maybe I am.”
“Will you stay in L.A?”
“I’m not sure.”
Sam was about to tell her he didn’t want her to leave,
that he loved her
, when—
“Mr. Rainsford, Sam…” Kristin said, approaching them. “I wanted to say goodbye. And to thank you for the room and letting me come to your place. And to tell you that you’re definitely
not
a perv.”
Sam laughed. “Well, I’m glad we cleared that up.”
“Here,” Kristin handed him a sketch. It was a beautiful line drawing of the palms. “I hope your trees are okay,” she said, then leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
Sam looked at the sketch, suddenly overcome with emotion. “Thanks. It’s a beautiful drawing.”
Laura pulled a card out of her purse, jotted her number on the back, and held it out to Kristin. “Here. If you’re serious about CalArts, call me. I know people who can help.”
“Thanks,” Kristin said, taking the card. “I’m definitely going to call.” She gave Laura a hug, then hurried back to one of the waiting CHP vehicles.
Laura looked over Sam’s shoulder at the drawing. “God, Sam, I hope your place is okay.”
“Yeah,” he said. “But the important thing is we all made it. Houses can be rebuilt. Trees can be replanted.”
“Excuse me…” They turned to see an officer waving. “Ma’am, we’ve got to go.”
“Okay,” Laura said, waving back.
“Hey,” Sam looked at her. “Come see me sometime.”
She smiled, then gave him a kiss goodbye. “I’ll do that.”
Sam watched as she was escorted to one of the waiting cars.
I already miss her
, he thought to himself, then walked to his truck and climbed into the battered cab.
He reached for the starter, stopped, opened the glove box, and pulled out the battered photo he kept of his family. He looked at it for a moment, then reached back into the glove box and pulled out his phone. He turned it on, then scrolled through his saved pictures, stopping on the photo he took of Laura and Kristin sitting at the kitchen table having dinner. It was the day they’d met. He stared at the picture for a moment longer, then placed the phone on the seat.
Maybe it was time for him to move on, too
.
Chapter 77
Like the rest of Furnace Valley, the Rainsford Ranch looked like a bomb had been dropped on it. The main house was still standing, but the barn and tack room were gone, reduced to a pile of sticks.
The palms were still there, too—well, the trunks, anyway. But everything else that resembled a palm tree had been stripped. It looked like someone had planted twenty acres of totem poles.
Sam and Curley made a sweep through the ranch, picking up debris, saving what was useful, and stacking the rest in a pile to be burned at some later date.
Sam straightened a fence rail, grabbed a shovel, and then walked to edge of the compound, the spot where the palms started, and stared out at the trees, wondering if they’d come back. Wondering if he really cared.
Curley stopped what he was doing and watched Sam, noticing how he looked at the palms. He was worried about him. Sam seemed so… sad.
“Don’t worry, Sam. They’ll survive. Palms is scrappy things.”
When Sam turned to look at Curley, he couldn’t believe his eyes.
A Highway Patrol SUV rolled up, lights flashing, and pulled to a stop in the middle of the compound.
Inside, Laura turned to the driver. “Thank you, officer. I’m sorry about the
confusion
.”
The officer smiled, killed the flashers. “No problem, ma’am. You sure you don’t want me to wait? Just in case?”
“Yes, I’m sure. But thanks.”
Laura grabbed her bag, waved goodbye to the officer, and walked to Sam.
As she walked, she passed her Honda. It looked like it had been in a wreck, like it was ready for the junkyard. Then she noticed the neat piles of stacked wood.
“Looks like you’re already cleaning up.”
“More like rearranging deck chairs on the
Titanic
,” Sam said, letting go of the shovel. Then he walked towards her, hardly able to contain his excitement.
Laura dropped her bag. Then she was running. They were both running. And as they came together, Sam swept her into his arms and they kissed. Again and again, Sam holding her up off the ground now, turning in a slow circle.
“Okay, that’s it!” Curley said, watching. Then he threw his rake down in disgust. “I’m through. This time it’s for real. I’m leaving.”
Sam eased Laura to the ground, looking over at Curley.
“Curley, what are you chipping your teeth about now?”
“As if you don’t know,” Curley said, clumping up to them. “You’ve gone and ruined everything. You broke our number one rule. No women.”
Laura looked at Sam, then gave him a wink.
“Sorry, Curley. I didn’t know the rules. I guess I’ll have to go now.” She went up to him, gave him a peck on the cheek. “I’m going to miss you, Curley.”
“Aww…” Curley said, blushing. “You’re as bad as Sam. Now I got
both
of you to look after.”
“Looks like you’re stuck here, Curl.”
Curley waved him off with an arm, angled over to what was left of the tack room, and began to kick the debris around.
Sam looped an arm around Laura’s waist, pulling her close.
“Did I ever tell you about the idea I had for seedless dates?”
Chapter 78
A ’74 Camaro swayed around a bend and dropped onto a straight section of blacktop that cut through a corner of the Mojave Desert. Triple digit heat bent and twisted the road like a licorice whip.
As the car accelerated on the straight, a beer bottle sailed out the passenger window, bounced on the shoulder, and tumbled into desert scrub.
Inside the car, two Kurt Cobain lookalikes rocked to the Meat Puppet’s grunge hit,
Backwater
.
“Yo, I gotta take a squirt,” the passenger said, reaching into a cooler and grabbing a fresh beer.
The driver glanced over, then shook his head.
“What the fuck? You went like ten minutes ago?”
“I gotta go.”
The driver reached over, yanked the beer out of his hand, and twisted off the cap.
“What a douche.” He took a swig of beer. “Shit, we’re never gonna get to Vegas.”
“Just do it,
bitch
. Pull this shitbox over.”
The driver flipped him off, but moved his foot from the gas pedal to the brakes and rolled to a stop at the side of the road.
“Hurry the fuck up. Then tie a knot in it, ‘cause I’m not stopping again.”
With the Meat Puppets hammering away, the passenger got out, walked behind the car, and stood next to a sign that read: Furnace Valley 20 Miles, Summer Population 16, Winter Population 150, No outlet.
He unzipped his pants and began to urinate, taking his time, looking around.
Just as he was finishing up, an empty beer bottle flew out the car and the horn began to
honk
, the driver still pissed he had to stop.
“Fuck you,” the passenger said, zipping his pants. Then he walked back to the car and climbed in.
As he reached to close his door, the driver revved the engine and dumped the clutch,
slamming the door shut. Rooster tails of sand shot up from the rear tires as the Camaro fishtailed onto the road and then rocketed down the highway in a cloud of exhaust and tire smoke.
* * *
Next to the sign, a grasshopper lay in a circle of wet sand—the place where the passenger had relieved himself—its body ruined and palsied.
The grasshopper twitched, then contracted violently. Then its thorax ruptured—and a baby creeper stalk shot up, flashing back and forth as it sniffed the air.
A moment later, a scorpion wandered onto the wet sand and angled hungrily towards the grasshopper. It lumbered up, raised a claw—and just as it was about to seize the grasshopper, the creeper lashed out, struck the scorpion, and coiled around its body.
The scorpion’s tail struck the creeper, its venomous tip flashing down again and again. It arched its back and twisted up, trying to free itself. But the creeper held on—constricting and squeezing—tighter and tighter, pulling the scorpion to its death.
Finally, all movement stopped. And then, if you’d been there with your ear held close, you would’ve heard a tiny
sucking sound
as the creeper drained the life from the scorpion’s body.