by T S Paul
“Where’d you find this thing, anyway?” Arlen asked as he welded the wire onto my army helmet.
“Maggie. She had an old bird cage in the attic, said it was there when she moved in,” I explained. Maggie had told me in no uncertain terms that I was insane for going after what she called Them. Gord hadn’t known, but the lizards had chased her as well.
“This helmet we’re making reminds me of gear for that jai alai game. You know the one with the scoop thing?” Arlen stated, his voice muffled by the welding helmet.
I wrinkled my nose. “What game?”
Arlen stood up, pushing the face mask up. “Jai alai. They played it at the world’s fair in 1904.”
“How old do you think I am? I wasn’t even a gleam in my parents’ eyes that long ago,” I told him.
Arlen laughed at that. He was apparently from Florida. He’d come west looking for work in 1926 and just never went back. “Jack, it was a combination of many things that brought me way out here. You’re too young, but we’d had two hurricanes in a row in South Florida and then this tiny little fly caused a shutdown in the groves by killing off all the fruit. No job, no prospects, no place to stay, I just packed up and kept going. California looked like the promised land, but I never made it that far.”
“You’ve been in Belmont that long?” I asked him.
“Pretty much. I spent some time in Ruth and Ely getting established, but that was before most of this town was here. Don’t let Maggie fool you, she built much of that place herself,” Arlen remarked. “Hell, I ran half the electrics. Those were the days. The mine was booming, new folks were coming here with that sparkle of greed in their eyes…”
“Sounds nice,” I said.
Arlen snorted then laughed. “No. This was a boom town. When the silver dried up so did the sparkle. We’re all just hanging on here ‘cause we’ve nowhere else to go. The new mine was supposed to save us.”
From what I’d seen of the town, I could agree with that. No one seemed to care about upkeep or looks. The town was fading away.
“Let’s see how this fits you.” Arlen lifted up the helmet he’d been working on.
Slipping the thing on, I turned to him. “Well?”
Arlen laughed again. “Looks like a birdcage gone wrong but it should work. Don’t let them hit you too much in the face, though. That wire is cheap. What about your neck?”
Reaching up, I could feel what he was asking about. There was a space about six inches or so all the way around my neck and shoulders.
“Hmm, a gorget would be ideal, but I don’t have one. I’ve got some heavy-duty canvas that used to be part of a life raft that I picked up somewhere. Maybe I can have Maggie make me a focale or something,” I stated.
Arlen raised his eyebrows and looked at me. “Fo-what? I can barely understand you, son.”
“Sorry, it’s my love of history shining through. The ancient Roman soldiers wore a sort of a scarf thing called a focale around their upper shoulders and neck. It wouldn’t stop a sword strike, but it was to protect from ashes and insects. They were jaunty, as well.” I demonstrated with a shop rag.
“You best get moving then, if you’re gonna catch her before dinner. Just to let ya know, the part we need for your vehicle is coming in with the supply run truck tomorrow from Ruth. At first they said it would take longer, but I told them you were a G-man and they put a rush on it. Had to send to Crystal Springs, but it’s coming.” Arlen pointed to the open hood of my van. “So if you survive tonight, I should have you back on your way this time tomorrow.”
Nodding my thanks, I explained my job to him. “If these things are a threat, I’ll stay and take care of it. I’m not in the habit of passing the buck. I appreciate the help, Arlen.”
The sun was going down and third shift at the mine was rushing to get home. No one, not even Gord the foreman, wanted to see what was coming out of the mine at night. Surprisingly, no one laughed at my costume.
“For a government man, you’re crazy. Try to stay alive.” Gord patted me on the shoulder as he practically ran down toward the town.
From all the accounts I’d received, the main entrance was where the flying lizards would come from. Using the submachine gun seemed like overkill to me now. While I had a couple of shotguns, I didn’t think they’d be as effective as the Thompson. Still, shooting at what might look like a flock of birds with a Tommy gun sounded odd.
Leaning against an old mine cart, I watched the entrance. The sun had dropped behind one of the distant mountains, plunging the entire area in darkness. In a few moments, even the sunset would fade. Gord had said these things liked full dark. I was starting to wonder how I would pee in this outfit when I heard it.
The flapping of wings.
At first, it was just one or two. Then hundreds of small winged snake-like lizards poured out into the night air. Not giving them a chance to get away, I sparked a road flare and whipped up my gun, pulling the trigger.
It takes a strong arm to fire a Thompson, which is why most Agents use sidearms. Bracing the weapon to my shoulder, I started firing.
Bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam…
Using all my strength, I held the Thompson down as it fired. Brass was spitting out everywhere to my right as the drum magazine went through all fifty rounds. The flying lizards reacted to my attack like a flock of sparrows running from a hawk. They moved as a single cloud, up and away from the bullets.
At nine hundred rounds a minute, the machine gun fires super fast. Dropping the first drum, I scrambled to attach the second one. This was one of the original 1921 Colt guns, so I had to feather a lever even as I attached the drum. I was using fifty-round drums. There were some twice that amount out there, but they made the gun too heavy.
Looking skyward, I could see the swarm of creatures turning and twisting in the sharp light of the flare. They were moving closer and closer to me.
I pulled out another flare and waited until the last possible moment to start firing.
Bam, bam, bam, bam, bam…
Blowing through the second drum, I barely had time to move as the swarm plowed into me. Frantic creatures with long undulating bodies, sharp teeth, and bulging eyes hit me head on. The wire framework that Arlen had put together didn’t buckle as they rammed into me repeatedly.
The bulky mechanic’s heat resistant gloves I had cut the fingertips from made it too hard to draw my pistols, so I did the only thing I could think of. I dropped face first onto the ground. I could feel every instance of the lizards hitting my body, trying to dig in. I’d tucked my fingers underneath my chest for protection.
I only chanced a look once and was immediately attacked again. It wasn’t just nature that drove these things. They had some bit of intelligence to them, as well.
As the night progressed, the attacks lessened except when I moved. So I stopped doing that. No need to spend time figuring out how to pee in the suit, either.
“You alive, G-man?” Arlen’s voice woke me from a dead sleep. Raising my head, I could see just the faintest glimmer of sunlight.
“Yeah…sort of.” Pulling myself up to my knees, I looked around the mine entrance. Dozens of dead lizards surrounded me.
Arlen picked up one of the dead creatures. “Wooee, son! You did a number on them for sure. The whole town was pulling for you when the shooting stopped. I thought for sure you got eaten up here.”
I stood and dusted myself off. Picking up my fallen Thompson, I pulled the drum off and checked it for debris. Seeing it was empty, I replaced it with one of the stick magazines.
“Good thing you had that,” Arlen commented as he made a pile of the dead lizards.
“I’ll have to thank the special armaments guys. I can see why the gangsters liked it so much. How many do you figure?” I asked him.
“At least a couple dozen here. There might be more wounded in town,” Arlen replied. “What are these things?”
Giving one of the bodies a careful inspection, I shook my head. “Not a clue. Dange
rous things, though.”
Nothing but teeth and scales, they looked like a cross between a snake, a dragon, and a piranha fish. Bad news all the way around.
“What’s next?” Arlen asked me.
“Call it in. Short of blowing up the mine, they’re too much for little old me to handle on my own,” I started to explain to him.
“The hell you say! Closing the mine would kill the town!” Gord yelled as he came up the hill.
Turning, I gave the mine foreman a look. “You asked me for my help, remember. If blowing it up is the only solution, it’s what I’ll do. But I intend to ask higher for help in this.”
“Damn it, Jack! I told you why I need you here in Washington asap!” Anastasia admonished me over the phone.
“I can’t just dump these folks’ problems on the local police. Boss, these little monsters have killed people. I need the guard at the very minimum. I’m not sure I have the power to just blow up the livelihood of the entire town,” I explained.
“Fine. Tell me what you need but let me be clear. You will document everything, including sending as many of the creatures as you deem necessary to the labs here in Washington. Understand?” Anastasia ordered.
Paperwork wasn’t my strong point, and she knew it. This was punishment as much as it was help. “Got it. Thanks boss.”
“Uh huh. Get here when you can, Jack. I’ll just have to hide more than usual.” Anastasia hung up the phone.
I was using the mine office for security’s sake instead of the boarding house phone. Looking out at the roofs of the town, I cringed a bit, considering what was coming. The army might just shut it all down. No one wanted another Conception Point in their state.
“Is help coming?” Gord asked as he walked into the office without knocking.
Scowling at the lack of courtesy, I shook my head. It was his office, though. “Maybe. My boss in Washington promised to contact the local officials as well as the military. I’ll be staying until someone takes over, though.”
The foreman plopped down in one of the office chairs. “It burns me up that you can get them to respond and I can’t.”
“It’s not really me that’s asking though, is it. My division of the FBI is under the Director’s purview. The request to the Nevada guard will come from Mr. Hoover’s office,” I explained without really explaining. Bureau business wasn’t open for discussion.
It took two days for “help” to arrive. Two days of constant attacks by the lizards, or Quetzalcoatl, as the locals were calling them now.
As I wrote my reports, the corpses were examined by the townsfolk. A few of the newer miners from across the border cursed when they saw the lizards, calling them Quetzalcoatl and making the sign of the cross as they did. The name stuck.
“Feathered serpent” was a rough approximation of the name. My only problem was that the name was associated with an Aztec God. Odin was bad enough to have to deal with. I didn’t need more strange Gods in my life. According to the men, there were paintings of flying lizards on some of the old temples down in Mexico that resembled these creatures. Bigger ones, though. Much, much bigger ones.
All the town had seen were the smaller variety. It really worried me that maybe these were babies and a big one was lurking somewhere.
The army was early.
Everyone in town heard the rumbling before any of the vehicles came into view. Two large half-ton trucks, followed by a flatbed truck, led the way. Jeeps and several half-tracks brought up the rear. None of the equipment was front line, which told me this was a National Guard unit.
A jeep pulled up to the boarding house and stopped. The other equipment spread out as if to surround the town. Two officers and a couple of armed soldiers came inside. The soldiers took up guard positions by the door.
“We’re looking for an Agent Dalton,” the colonel said.
I stood and approached the men. “That would be me. Thanks for coming so quickly.”
Taking my hand, the older man snorted, “When the governor of Nevada and the president call you in the middle of the night you spring into action pretty quickly.”
Standing stock still for half a second, all I could do was blink. Rousing myself, I felt my jaw drop open. “The president? Really? All I did was call it in to my boss, Director Hoover.”
“You kicked over an anthill is what you did. Nobody wants Demons in their state. Can you tell me what we’re dealing with here? The bigwigs weren’t all that clear.” the colonel asked me.
Ushering the officers into the dining room, then ushering most of the locals except Gord and Maggie out, I started pulling out my reports and the dried Quetzalcoatl creatures. “...how many there are or how big. Mr. Gord here can explain the hole they made and just how big it is. The cave system down there could go for miles. I was afraid to just blow it on this end. These things could pop up anywhere.”
Colonel Horton frowned as he examined one of the small corpses. “You did this with an unmodified Thompson? You’re either the craziest FBI Agent I’ve ever met or the stupidest. Those old 1921 models jam at the drop of a hat. You might’ve gotten yourself killed. Luck was on your side, for sure. Mr. Gord?”
Gord sat up straighter in his chair for a moment. “Yes, Colonel?”
“The governor himself is supposed to be contacting the owners of the Belmont Mine about this situation. If we are unable to contain these things, I need you to get the word out to the town and all your employees. Evacuation is very possible.”
Gord grimaced. “We’ve got a lot of time and money tied up in this place to just have to leave it.”
“Just let them know, please. We’d like to do this peacefully.” Colonel Horton gave me a sharp look before continuing. “Captain Falconer here has some engineering questions for you about the mine. He’ll go with you, if you’d like.”
Gord shrugged and led the Captain outside. I caught the tail end of one of the questions as they walked. “...connect to the old mine? If it does, we need to trace it.”
Horton glanced at Maggie, then back at me, a question in his eyes. I shook my head. “She’s fine. This is her place.”
The Colonel nodded and tapped my stack of files. “Containment is what I was told to do. Anything more you’re not telling me?”
“Not really. These things are fast and intelligent. They reacted to my gun and my movements. I would suggest your men cover up as much as possible.” Reaching behind me, I pulled out sections of my homemade armor. Showing the teeth marks I explained, “Their teeth are razor sharp. If I didn’t have this on, they might have stripped me to the bone like the others.”
Horton rubbed his jawline in thought for a moment. “We don’t have anything like that on hand. I brought one tank and most of my rolling stock with me. You fired off a hundred rounds and killed a few dozen?”
“Yes, and it was like trying to kill a flock of moving sparrows at night with a pellet rifle,” I explained.
“I was part of the San Bernardino breakout in 1948, and I remember what fighting Demons is like.” Horton remarked. He took a deep breath. “I don’t want to do it again. Our brigade has a couple of flamethrower units. We’ll see how they do against these things. Like you, I’d hate to blow the mine shut, not knowing the exits. Captain Falconer’s a good man. He’ll find out what he can. This is a hell of a mess you’ve brought me, Agent Dalton.”
“Do you want me to stay and help?” I asked. Ana would kill me more, but this was my job.
“Initially, yes. Let’s get through the night and we can plan. So what do the people here do when it gets dark…” Horton asked as we both dug into the files I’d prepared.
Like before, the Quetzalcoatl poured out of the mine entrance in a flowing mass of feathers and scales. This time, they met gouts of flame rather than lead.
“Let them have it!” Horton’s subordinate gave the order.
Just before dusk, the guard had set up batteries of guns and flame on opposite sides of the entrance, hoping to catch the creatures in a cros
sfire. The very moment the men spotted the lizards, large electric lights switched on, bathing the rock face with light.
Like the fires of hell, gouts of liquid flame shot out at the Quetzalcoatl, catching them alight. As before, the swarm suddenly changed direction, and like a living entity, jinked to one side, coming in from behind to attack the battery on the right full on.
“Look out!” The man holding the flame gun fired a controlled burst over the heads of his companions at the diving lizards. He only had seven full seconds of fire to use and barely fluttered the trigger. Like puffs of smoke the flame broke up the attack. Other men in the battery directed their guns skyward and began firing.
Horton and I were a hundred yards back inside his command vehicle watching the Quetzalcoatl attack the troops.
“You need to pull them back. They don’t have the correct sort of armor against these things,” I told the colonel. Seeing American troops torn apart and not being able to stop it wasn’t on my agenda.
“The plan here is to thin them out. Let the boys do their jobs,” Horton remarked dispassionately. “This is what they get paid to do.”
The second battery started puffing out more gouts of flame, aimed at the entrance to the mine. I watched as the men began throwing grenades at it as well. Looking to the officers I asked, “Why grenades?”
Horton didn’t bother to turn around. He kept his binoculars on the entrance. “White phosphorus. If you should happen upon any of that white smoke, run the other way. It will burn out your lungs in but a moment. They wanted containment, I’ll give them containment.”
New additions to the swarm were stopped at the entrance, but the ones already out were moving on to easier prey, the rest of the Guard forces camped around the mine. Gunshots and screams echoed across the small valley for hours.
By dawn, the once stern colonel was a shadow of himself. Showing his age, the military leader sagged in his command chair. “I should have listened to you, Agent Dalton. That’s one of the problems of leading large groups of men. You forget the little people, and they’re the ones that got you there. I’ve already ordered an evacuation of the valley and the surrounding area. We’ll take it from here on out. You’re free to return to Washington now.”
