“Hey, sleepy eyes,” Angela said. “Glad you could make it.”
Bishop kissed Angela on the cheek, and leaned in closer to take a look at the object on the ground.
A hat, decorated with a camouflage pattern, and no doubt military.
“Yep,” Colbrick said as he puffed on his cigar. “They’re out here alright.”
Bishop frowned, and scanned the treeline. “We’re going to have to create a diversion,” he said.
Colbrick puffed out a big cloud of cigar smoke. “Or we could just drive away,” he said.
An annoying buzzing sound emitted from the woods, and zoomed closer to Bishop. A moment later, one of the awful saw-mosquitos landed on his forearm, and prepared to saw away. Colbrick realized what was about to happen, and blew a cloud of cigar smoke at the invasive. Rage filled the insect’s eyes, and it buzzed off back into the forest.
“Serves ‘em right,” Colbrick said.
Erickson’s Bait and Tackle (108 BPM)
Bishop and Dr. Avery entered what had been Wilkin’s Bait and Tackle. But the stingy owner had been killed by invasives, so his wife had sold out. As much as Bishop disliked Wilkins, the thought depressed him. He liked a certain continuity in life.
“What do we need?” Bishop asked Dr. Avery.
Dr. Avery stalked the aisles until he reached down and pulled out a sling-shot. “Perfect,” he said.
“For?” Bishop asked.
“A delivery mechanism for the bacterium,” he said. “Tossing onto Main Street was awkward, but worked only because of gravity. We need to propel the bacteria further, and with more velocity while being undetected. This is a perfect, and I mean perfect delivery system.”
“And it’s only 20 bucks,” Bishop said.
After buying more supplies, including fresh rounds of ammunition, Bishop met Colbrick and Angela out back. Yutu stood next to them, staring at where they’d buried Robert Jenkins before his remains were moved to the town cemetery at his wife’s request.
Angela took Bishop’s hand. “I still feel terrible,” she said.
“I don’t think we’ll ever get over it,” Bishop said. “It’s just one of those things.” Bishop bent over and gave Yutu a good pat on the head.
Dr. Avery brought out his tablet, and showed it to Bishop. Angela and Colbrick huddled round him in order to view the nine-inch screen. “Just received a fresh image,” Dr. Avery said. “Natural Corrections informs me there are numerous stasis-invasive holing up north of the Hoodoos. We have a GPS lock. It’s in federal wilderness though. No road trips.”
Colbrick puffed on his cigar, then spit. “Well, let’s go get ‘em,” he said.
“Wait,” Bishop said. “Did they say what species of invasive?”
Dr. Avery shook his head and bit his lip. “No, they did not, unfortunately.”
Angela chortled. “Yeah, that’s kind of important.”
“Don’t matter,” Colbrick said. “Let’s go get ‘em.”
Colbrick turned and headed back into what had been Wilkin’s Bait and Tackle.
“What are you doing?” Angela asked.
“Getting another slingshot,” Colbrick said. “Always have a backup.”
Big J (109 BPM)
The decision for Bishop was straight forward enough. They could hike into the alpine lands and infect whatever invasive were hiding away, or they could risk sneaking into a security facility, and then spread, or attempt to spread, the bacterium to captive invasive. And since they all had decent backcountry skills, the first choice would be…the first choice. There were two downsides: first, they had no idea what kind of invasive these would turn out to be. Second, the semi-stasis invasive might not be mobile enough to transfer the bacteria to other holed-up invasives within the valley. Bishop had always assumed, once learning of Dr. Avery’s vials, that they might have to attack several specific locations for this to ever work.
The group loaded up on gear at Big J, then drove in Bishop’s pickup to US Forest Service Road 131. After several miles of charred forest dotted with boulders, they came upon the trailhead. Along the way, they’d seen plenty of native species, including a moose and two white-tailed deer. This had pleased Angela and Yutu, who approved by wagging his tail.
The summer sun beat down on them in the open, burnt forest. Mobs of grasshoppers thrummed from patch to patch of dry grass. Bishop wondered if there were grasshoppers on the invasive’s planet, too.
The group took Thunder Trail, winding their way through a mosaic of burned and unburned forest.
“Biodiversity is rich in these kinds of mixed zones,” Dr. Avery said. “You can expect native species to thrive here, but also invasives.”
“I was afraid of that,” Angela said.
Around the next bend, a moose calf and her mother emerged from a stand of aspen trees. Their eyes were the size of golf balls, and they snorted as they trotted, as if something was behind them.
“Alces alces,” Dr. Avery said. “And agitated at that.”
Dr. Avery kneeled, and unfurled his telemetry kit, then snapped the antenna pieces together while connecting the cable. “We’ll need this, in case we encounter tagged invasive,” he said. With the telemetry kit assembled, he turned and pointed the antenna to where the moose had emerged.
The device beeped.
Then again.
“109 BPM,” Bishop said. “It looks like the invasive are not in as deep stasis as we thought.”
“They were only in a quasi-state,” Dr. Avery said. “And this current invasive is coming into our area.”
Colbrick aimed his sawed-off behind the moose cow and calf as they trotted off into the aspen cover. Behind them, branches broke and parted, revealing a muscular black bear with something in its mouth. Bishop looked closer, and realized it was one of the marsupial-like creatures, still alive and tag flashing. The black bear chomped down on its prey, and Dr. Avery’s machine beeped off.
“Mother nature,” Colbrick said. “She can be beautiful, and she can be ugly, too. Them’s the brakes.”
Apex Wilderness (111 BPM)
It had been a long time since Bishop explored this part of the Apex National Forest. They were well into roadless country now, having passed the wilderness-boundary sign. The forest clung to meadows and slopes in random burn patterns. Birds chittered at the meadow edges, then flew up in splashes of color and feather. Grazing mule deer looked up from their lush grasses, wondering who could be entering their montane domain.
As they pressed on, Bishop questioned himself. He wondered if he should be calling for help, have the mayor join, and numerous other options. But he realized they did have an ally. This wasn’t just the Bishop-Angela-Colbrick-Yutu roadshow like last time. Now they had Dr. Avery, and a very well-connected operation in Natural Corrections. Plus, they had a lot of weapons: .357s, bear spray, and of course, a re-designed bacteria that only killed invasive.
Bishop thought about the scene on Main Street, how they’d watched the invasive die all around Colbrick, and how fast. The problem with Natural Correction’s redesign was that if it truly took longer to kill, then the more dangerous it was for himself and his wife. There’d be lingerers. The invasives would not fall like they did around Colbrick, before they could inflict damage.
Angela slowed and let Bishop catch up. “It’s still beautiful country,” she said. “And I think we’re doing the right thing.”
Bishop gave her a good squeeze, as much as he could with two backpacks in the way.
Dr. Avery paused, and turned. “We’re leaving the ACR for my smart phone,” he said.
Colbrick spit. “ACR?” he asked. “Speak English, Doc.”
“Advanced Communications Range,” Dr. Avery said. “New technology.”
“Uh-huh,” Colbrick said. “Guess we’ll have to rely on maps, feet, you know, stuff that’s worked for centuries.”
“Smart ass,” Angela said, before shifting gears. “Dr. Avery, based on everything you’ve studied up here, what kind of invasive do
you think we’re heading for?”
“Well,” Dr. Avery said, setting his telemetry gear down for a moment. “The images clearly conveyed high altitude, talus, and alpine terrain. The seals prefer tree cover, but will inhabit mixed inter-zones, such as talus slopes and montane forest. I have not seen a single one of the floating eels, as they were known.”
“And you probably won’t,” Bishop said. “The fires really took care of them.”
Colbrick puffed on his cigar. “Flammable as toilet paper,” he said. “They got the worst of it.”
Dr. Avery held up his telemetry gear, and pointed it up-trail. “The secapods, they seem to do well in any environment. So they are a possibility. The leaves can always be counted on as well, perhaps a few plant species. The Burrowers, as you call them, would utilize springs and moist areas with nearby tunnel systems for escape routes.”
Bishop said what everyone was thinking. “What about the fliers?”
“The military has their number,” Dr. Avery said. “An airborne species of that size would be spotted easily, and unless in very high numbers, easily dispatched with modern military equipment.”
Bishop nodded. “This is true,” he said. “But we did see a few of them recently.”
“Escapees,” Dr. Avery said.
“So secapods and rotten leaves,” Colbrick said as he gripped his sawed-off. “Not my favorites,” he said. “’specially the leaves.”
Angela groaned. “We know, Colbrick.”
Apex Wilderness (113 BPM)
After ten more rugged miles of almost pure elevation gain, and collecting wood before leaving treeline, the group found an alpine campsite at 10,000 feet. The campsite was sheltered by one house-sized boulder, while a magnificent peak loomed two thousand feet above. A pair of mountain goats clung to the cliffs, the wind rustling their thick white fur.
“So cool,” Bishop said. “The natives are still hanging on.”
Angela smiled.
After setting up their tents, the group huddled around a campfire. The embers drifted up into a backdrop of millions of stars, and winked out as if they never existed.
Dr. Avery gripped his telemetry device, pointing it everywhere. “Still no activity,” he said. “Disappointing.”
Bishop disagreed.
“Your people could’ve been wrong,” he said. “Or this batch of invasives might not be tagged.”
“Anything’s possible,” Dr. Avery said.
Bishop poked at the fire with a stick as Yutu slept at his feet. Every so often, Bishop had to brush Yutu’s tail away from the flames.
Crazy dog, he thought.
“Dr. Avery,” Angela said, “can you fill us in a bit more on your employer?”
Dr. Avery set his gear down, and placed his hands in his pant pockets. “I can,” he said. “Chicago-based, with operations all over the country. They specialize in endangered species and ecosystem restoration. But they also work on things like climate change. The funding seems to be endless. We have very, very generous donors spread out across the country.”
“The package drop-off was unreal,” Bishop said.
Dr. Avery smiled. “They don’t mess around.”
Bishop watched as Dr. Avery’s demeanor quickly changed. “But if we can’t get it done, they’ll send in reinforcements.”
“Really?” Angela asked.
“A much tougher crowd with unique skill sets. I can’t really go into specifics. Let’s just say they’re unusual skills.”
Bishop wasn’t fond of Dr. Avery holding back. There was simply too much risk. “Come on, Doctor. We’re doing dangerous work here.”
Dr. Avery shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’ve signed papers. If I break the confidentiality, not only will I lose my job, but I’ll be sued for potential damages.”
“Jesus,” Angela said.
“They’re good people. No, great people,” Dr. Avery said. “But they are very serious about what they do. They have to be. Because the enemy is.”
Bishop poked his stick in the fire again, watching as fire embers danced and swayed up into the Milky Way. “The tags have been pulsing faster and faster,” Bishop said. “What else is Dr. Werner doing besides the isolated secapod feeding station?”
“Intel from Natural Corrections has discovered he’s isolating groups of invasive and performing numerous experiments, some beyond ethical boundaries. One of those is tag manipulation via sine wave frequencies. They think he’s about to find a frequency and power combination to effectively harness the tag’s power.”
Colbrick puffed on his cigar, and ashed into the fire. “Those things get to one hundred, and it’s nighty-night,” he said.
Bishop wondered. “We’ve never actually addressed that,” he said. “We’ve always assumed if the tags hit 100 or 150 BPM, a signal is sent out to their master species, the ones behind all of this. The theory was, and correct me if I’m wrong, Dr. Avery.”
“You can stop calling me Dr. Avery,” Dr. Avery said. “We’re not in a formal setting. Please, just use ‘Aves.’”
Bishop stepped away from the fire, and let his eyes adjust to the Milky Way. “We interrupted a signal transfer, at 100 BPM last year, Aves. There was a deep sense, or feeling, that something terrible was about to happen. But now, the tags are blinking at a rate beyond that.”
Aves reached into his pocket, and held the vial to the firelight. “This will end all that,” he said.
“Blowing up the machine should’ve ended it,” Bishop said.
Dr. Avery smiled warmly at Bishop and Angela. Bishop appreciated the lack of condescension.
Dr. Avery raised a finger. “I’m sure you all are familiar with—”
“—I’m going to bed,” Colbrick said. “Night.”
“Night,” Angela said.
In seconds, bear-like snoring roared from Colbrick’s tent. Dr. Avery continued. “As I was saying, I’m sure you’re all aware of the redundancy concept.”
“That depends,” Bishop said. “We’re aware it’s likely the invasive’s master species sent out thousands of these clone ships, maybe millions to settle inhabitable planets.”
“Right,” Dr. Avery said. “But most planets wouldn’t be inhabitable at the time. Or ever.”
Yutu stood up from the fire, gave a good shake, then curled up at Angela’s feet.
“So the redundancy theory applies not just to the clone ships,” Dr. Avery said. “It applies to all critical systems. It’s a theory started by Dr. Kapovsky in 1945. Kapovsky was a Russian engineer who helped the Russians churn out tank after tank and weapon after weapon during World War II. While the Germans had superior technology, they also had over-complicated and hard-to-repair technology. The Russian system was designed for numbers. Eventually, Kapovsky proved correct, and the Germans were completely overwhelmed by sheer numbers. In this case, the invasive’s master species might’ve sent out backup signal units along with the clone ships.”
“Jesus,” Angela said. “There might be backup units anywhere.”
Bishop thought about potential signal relay devices littering planet Earth. “That would be a real rat’s nest, as Colbrick would say,” Bishop said.
“Indeed,” Dr. Avery said. “Although the clone ship is destroyed, remaining stasis invasives could awaken, re-group, and send out a new signal to their master species. Whether it’s a robust signal is entirely up for debate. We may be so far away from the master species, that a signal is meaningless. Or, they could have communication tech we can’t possibly understand, on-demand, even. This would be a species capable of bending time and space, possibly using wormholes to save time. Or amazingly, even creating wormholes themselves.”
Overhead, a shooting star arced the night sky, then faded into eternity.
“We already know Dr. Avery is affecting the tags with his experiments. But it’s possible he’ll go all the way, and trigger the next stage of BPM capacity for the sake of science.”
“For the sake of science?” Angela asked. “Or you mean f
or the sake of stupidity?”
“It is science,” Dr. Avery said. “Like the atomic bomb. They just had to see. And of course, Pandora’s box was opened.”
“It was,” Bishop said.
Bishop pulled out the images they’d printed of the invasive’s location near the Hoodoos, and pondered them.
“I wonder what the odds are of finding a new species,” he said. “I mean, we have Vastus, obviously.”
“The odds are good,” Dr. Aver said. “The clone ship was capable of producing an entire ecosystem under ideal conditions.”
Angela laughed. “Yeah, that’s what makes this whole thing more interesting. When you look at most science fiction novels or movies, we get alien invasions where the aliens, all of them, are just bad. It’s always the super predators, or what have you. This…this is a science-based invasion. EVERYTHING is invading, the friendly animals, and the dangerous ones. And it’s why I’m having trouble with the thought of killing off the bird, or the marsupial-like animals. They didn’t do anything wrong. They’re just living, trying to survive. Like us.”
Angela angled her chin down, and Bishop rubbed her back. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“It’s fine,” she said, still not making eye contact. “I want all of this over with. I want the valley to go back the way it was. No invasives, no military, no containment centers and other buildings in the national forest.”
Dr. Avery took a sip of his hot cocoa, and set it upon a sizzling rock adjacent to the campfire. “Have you heard of the Intrusion Theory?” he asked them.
“Nope,” Bishop said.
“It’s another solid theory,” Dr. Avery said. “It entails the concept that once an organism has penetrated an ecosystem, said ecosystem can never revert back to what it was. That the change is locked-in barring ecological cleansing. I think that applies to the Apex Valley as well. And honestly, if I may say so, the best thing that could’ve happened to the valley after the invasion, in terms of full-invasive species eradication, was if the fires had burned everywhere, and perhaps fifty miles around the core burn perimeter…just to make sure.”
The Invasive 2: Remnants Page 9
