Extinction Point (Book 4): Genesis

by Paul Antony Jones

  “There it is,” said Rhiannon, pointing at a patch of silver shining through the grass, just a couple of meters ahead of them.

  It was a minivan; one of those vehicles they used to call “people movers” back in the nineties. The grass had grown up around it, and there were obvious signs that it had been here for quite some time. The tires had all but rotted away to little more than shreds, spots of orange rust over its silver paintwork gave it a leopardlike camouflage, and red lichen spores had spread over parts of the windows. Other than that, it looked to be in pretty good shape.

  “The doors are all closed,” said Rhiannon as they approached, then stopped and pointed at the perfectly round hole drilled in the windshield. There had been at least one occupant inside, apparently. Red strands had grown up and over the hood and found the spider hole. They had wormed their way inside and inched down over the dashboard, winding their way around the steering column.

  “I’ll check the inside,” said Emily, “you keep an eye open.”

  Emily stepped up to the driver’s side window and wiped away some of the lichen, leaned in close, and scanned the inside. Keys were still in the ignition, and the crumbling paper-thin remains of an alien pupae lay across the driver’s seat and center console. A bottle of water sat in the holder of the driver’s side door. Emily gave a little gasp when she saw the two kiddie seats in the backseat, the safety straps still in place, a pink pacifier on the seat of one, a blue blanket on the other.

  A tug of the door handle proved it was locked, so Emily made her way to the back passenger door, but that was locked too. Wiping away more crap from the back window allowed her to see into the rear storage space and spot the two leather suitcases there.

  “Bingo!” Emily said, allowing herself a smile. Maybe she’d have better luck with the rear—

  Thor stopped midstep, his muzzle raised, sniffing the air around them, his head moving from left to right as if he were unsure that what he sensed was really there. If a dog could ever be described as looking suspicious, Emily thought, this would be what it would look like.

  “Rhiannon,” Emily called out as quietly as she could.

  Rhiannon turned and looked at Emily, her face asking: What?

  Emily nodded at Thor. She didn’t even have to ask Rhiannon to come back. The girl was at her side in three steps, her hand on her pistol, eyes moving left and right, scanning the tall grass for any sign of movement.

  Nothing seemed out of the ordinary to Emily. Drizzle still fell silently from the ubiquitous gray clouds, the red grass hushed and shushed as their reeds rubbed together, swaying back and forth in a breeze that never seemed to go away, rippling over the plants’ surface as though it were a lake.

  Thor turned and followed the scent for a pace or two around the flank of the minivan, then stopped again, staring into the wall of red. He let out a deep-throated growl, his head dipping low between his front shoulder blades.

  Emily and Rhiannon simultaneously drew their weapons.

  “See anything at all?” Emily whispered as she edged nearer to Thor.

  Rhiannon shook her head.

  Thor was frozen to the spot, his muscles tensed, ready to spring, his snarl constant now, like the low growl of an idling engine.

  “Thor, get over here,” Emily ordered, then to Rhiannon, “We need to get back to the freeway.”

  Rhiannon began to push her way through the grass back in the direction of the road.

  “Thor! Get your ass over here now.” This time Thor complied, backing up until he was close to Emily before turning toward her.

  Emily had taken her first step after Rhiannon when she spotted movement in the field. It reminded her of the wake of a shark moving through water, the tops of the vegetation shifting aside in a V shape as something moved toward them.

  Rhill-tik-tik-tik-tikkkkkk!

  The sound momentarily froze Emily in her tracks. It had come from her left. She turned in time to see another wake moving through the grass, this one headed toward Rhiannon.

  Rhill-tik-tik-tik-tikkkkkk!

  Whatever these things were, they were coordinating their attack, and they had the upper hand. They had to get out of the long grass and back into the open to have a fighting chance.

  “Run!” Emily yelled and began to sprint as quickly as she could back toward the freeway.

  The call came again: rhill-tik-tik-tik-tikkkkkk! This time it was in stereo as both creatures called out at the same time.

  An image of another time loomed up in Emily’s mind: a forest, creatures intent on killing their prey. No way was she going to make the same mistakes this time. She sprinted as fast as her legs could carry her, more of a lope than a run, bouncing from one foot to another over the tangles of roots and sprouts of grass, like she was eight years old, and they were cracks in the pavement that went straight to Hell.

  Rhiannon was ahead of her, using both hands to push the grass aside as she brute-forced her way to the road.

  The second wake was angling toward Rhiannon, and Emily knew there was no way she was going to make it to the road in time. Halting, she leveled her pistol just ahead of the disturbance and pulled the trigger twice in quick succession. Two things happened next: Rhiannon reflexively screamed and ducked, stumbled, then fell to her knees. Whatever the creature in the grass was, it hesitated momentarily, then leaped, a black shadow cutting through the space above Rhiannon. Emily aimed her pistol again, expecting the creature to take its advantage and head back toward the prostrate girl, but instead it whirled around to Emily’s right and met with the second creature, the two wakes merging into one.

  Emily caught up with Rhiannon just as she made it to her feet. She grabbed the girl by the backpack and pulled her upright, pushing her ahead as she tried to keep her eyes on the creatures and not stumble herself.

  Rhill-tik-tik-tik-tikkkkkk!

  The creatures were headed toward them again, this time at breakneck speed, the red grass parting like a whirlwind was blowing through it.

  “Move it,” Emily yelled. Blacktop ahead, just a few more meters. She was in front of Rhiannon now, placing herself between the girl and the onrushing creatures, simultaneously pulling Rhiannon along. Then her feet were on the freeway and she had traction again, doubling her speed.

  “Get to the median,” she ordered Rhiannon, pushing her in the direction of the guardrail running down both sides of the median. Emily hoped it would provide some kind of a barrier if either of the things in the long grass decided they wanted to come out and play.

  Halfway into the center lane, Emily slowed, turned to face the grass, backing up as she did. She glanced over her shoulder in time to see Rhiannon hopping over the metal guardrail, kneeling and leveling her own pistol to cover Emily.

  Rhill-tik-tik-tik-tikkkkkk!

  The creatures milled around the border between the grass and the hardtop of the freeway, as though they were uncomfortable or unsure about coming out into the open space, and that was just fine as far as Emily was concerned. She had eight rounds left in her .45 and would prefer not to use them unless she absolutely had to. If they could simply get away from—

  The edge rustled violently as the creatures moved closer.

  Emily caught a glimpse of Thor moving past her left side, barking insanely as he rushed toward the edge of the field.

  “No, Thor!” Emily yelled. “No!”

  Thor skidded to a stop but did not come to her. Instead he stood his ground growling and barking just a few meters shy of the grass.

  “Here, come here,” Emily yelled, edging forward, trying to identify exactly where the threat would come from.

  “Get your ass over here, right now, mister,” Rhiannon yelled, suddenly at Emily’s side, and in a voice that commanded more authority than Emily had ever heard before. Thor, instantly cowed, stopped his barking, dropped his ears and head down, and ran toward Rhiannon . . .

  . . . as the two creatures hidden within the tall grass now exploded outward . . .

  They land
ed on either side of Thor, hulking four-legged creatures that looked almost bearlike save for their flattened heads and double row of twelve globular black eyes spaced in a semi-circle around the front of their skulls. The “fur” covering their bodies was as red and as long and thin as the alien grass they had hidden in. A fin, more like a sail, ran laterally along the spine of each animal’s back from the base of the neck to the end of the tail. As each thudded to the ground, they exhaled that same tik-tik-tik call, their heads shifting from dog, to human, to dog again, as if assessing which would be the easiest prey.

  Rhiannon opened fire first, striking the creature on the left three times in the face, her hollow-point rounds exploding its head into bloody ribbons.

  Emily brought her pistol up level with the second animal, expecting it to launch itself at them, then eased her finger from the trigger as, instead, it looked at its now-deceased brethren and wailed a long ululation as it scuttled to the dead creature’s side in an unmistakable act of surprise. Completely ignoring the humans and dog, the creature sniffed around the remains of the other animal, prodded the body with its snout, and, when it did not move, lifted its head and wailed . . .

  Rhillllll-tikk—

  Crack! Crack!

  Emily jumped in surprise as two shots rang out in quick succession, hitting the creature in the neck. It staggered once, then dropped to the ground, its head lying across the back of its partner, chest rising in deep, long pants, as it struggled feebly to regain its feet. A third shot from Rhiannon hit the creature in the temple and it too was no more.

  Thor sniffed at the bodies of the two dead creatures.

  “Get away from there,” Emily scolded, her mind still caught up in the interaction she was almost certain she had seen between the dead animals. She was already beginning to doubt herself, but she was sure that in those final moments the second creature had shown clear indications of disbelief, maybe even grief, at the death of the first. Why she was surprised by that, she did not know. Perhaps it was simply because it was easier to label everything created within this world as monsters without emotion, without anything other than the base instinct to survive at all costs. There were plenty of examples of animals before the red rain that mated for life, or exhibited grief at the loss of a member of its family or friend; why then, should the new creatures of this planet be any different?

  And Rhiannon . . . what about Rhiannon? Emily was beginning to worry about her. She seemed absolutely unperturbed after killing the two creatures, barely even looking at them once she was sure they were dead. That was disturbing to Emily. Neither creature had seemed intent on attacking them; as she reran the images of the past few minutes through her mind, they seemed more interested in driving them away from the field. And they had only moved outside the long grass after Thor had made the first aggressive move, and, even then, they seemed more interested in holding their ground rather than attacking. Emily had to wonder whether there was a connection between the spent pupae she had seen in the minivan and these two creatures. Could it be—

  “Do you think we should go back and check out what’s in those cases?” Rhiannon said, breaking Emily’s train of thought.

  There could be more of those creatures in there, but Emily’s gut told her there wasn’t, that these two were a couple. Mates, she was certain of it.

  The drizzle still fell. The limp bodies of the two dead creatures only added to the depressing aura that seemed to have taken over their lives for the past couple of days. Maybe there was something useful in the two suitcases she had spotted in the back of the minivan. That would be nice.

  “Sure,” Emily said finally, “let’s go take a look.”

  They followed the path they had created during their escape back to the minivan, a little more cautiously this time, but there was no sign that they were anything other than alone out here now.

  Emily tried the back passenger door, but it was locked too. She headed to the rear of the minivan; it had a lift-up tailgate. Emily pulled halfheartedly on the door handle, knowing it, too, would be locked, but, to her surprise, she heard the click of the latch disengaging, and the door lifted up with barely more than a squeak. A musty smell, like old books, wafted out, and Emily turned her head away for a second.

  In the storage compartment were the two leather suitcases she had seen earlier, a folded baby stroller, and an electric icebox. Red fungus grew around the edge of the icebox where the lid met the body. It was pretty much a forgone conclusion of what would be inside, but she felt the need to check anyway. Emily picked the box up and set it down. Opening the lid, she was surprised to see a six-pack of bottled water, pint size. Whatever food had been in there was long gone, but the water was a great find.

  Rhiannon leaned in and pulled the smaller of the two cases out and popped the locks. She emptied the contents onto the ground and sifted through them; it was full of kids’ clothing, diapers, and a bag of kids’ toiletries.

  The second case was locked. Emily pulled the knife from her ankle sheath and forced the cheap locks with that satisfying thunk, thunk sound only suitcases seemed capable of making. She flipped the lid open.

  Winner!

  It held a set of his-and-hers clothes—Husband and wife? Boyfriend and girlfriend? she wondered momentarily—enough for a couple of days away by the look of it. It wasn’t hard to imagine the owners of the clothing on their way to visit family or maybe spend a couple of days with their children. Or maybe they had just decided to try and outrun the red rain and had died out here in the middle of nowhere. But at least they all died together, Emily thought, as she rummaged through the rest of the suitcase, which contained a couple of books: a romance and a well-thumbed copy of The Stand. She handed both books to Rhiannon, who glanced at them and put them into her backpack. “We can use them for a fire if we have to,” she said. Emily nodded her approval, not sure reading Stephen King’s book would be such a good idea, given their current predicament.

  “This is more like it,” she said, smiling at Rhiannon as she fished three pairs of women’s jeans from the case. She held one against her waist. Too big, but then everything was these days; she had probably lost twenty pounds or more since this all began. But if she turned up the cuffs, they would work. She stripped off her soaked jeans and tossed them away, slipped into the new pair, and made a few adjustments until they fit her well enough that she could move freely. “Oh my God, these feel good,” she said as she felt the cool, dry weave of the denim against her legs. There were socks too, and underwear—oh God, clean panties! Emily emptied out the kids’ clothing from the first case and began packing everything useful into it.

  Rhiannon fished a small roadside emergency bag from a side compartment, unzipped it, and pulled out a first-aid kit, which she promptly stowed in her backpack. “Are these dynamite?” she asked, holding up two red sticks that did bear a passing resemblance to the explosive.

  Emily smiled. “Emergency flares,” she said.

  “Cool!” said Rhiannon, and stuffed them in her backpack too.

  “Where’s Thor?” Rhiannon asked, suddenly aware the malamute had vanished.

  Emily looked around as if she expected him to be at her feet, but he was nowhere to be seen. A quick survey around the perimeter of the vehicle didn’t turn him up either.

  “Shit!” she said when she was sure the malamute wasn’t just peeing on something, then, “Thor!”

  There was silence for several long heartbeats, then Thor’s bark came to them from off to their right; it was urgent, demanding.

  “Thor,” Emily yelled, “come here, now.”

  Again Thor barked that same almost playful but demanding bark.

  “Leave the stuff here,” Emily said. “Let’s go see what he’s gotten into now.”

  “Thor?” Emily called as she and Rhiannon pushed through the foliage in the direction of his excited barking.

  Laced throughout the alien grass were what were obviously paths the two creatures they had encountered used on a regular bas
is, judging by how well-worn they were. Emily and Rhiannon followed one now toward the sound of Thor’s insistent bark.

  “There he is,” said Rhiannon, then, “Whoa!”

  The malamute was at the end of the path. He waited outside a—what? Emily couldn’t call it a nest; it was too large, too intricately woven from the surrounding blades of grass. It was more like a work of art, big enough to have easily accommodated the two animals they had just killed with room to spare.

  It was a den—yes, that was the right word. And Thor was sitting outside it, near a curved opening close to the ground that was probably the entrance.

  “Thor, come over here,” Emily said, suddenly aware that the den was easily big enough to accommodate more of the creatures. She drew her pistol in anticipation of another attack from within.

  Thor ignored her command, instead dropping to his front paws, his butt in the air, and firing bark after bark at the opening.

  Emily approached cautiously.

  “Get over here, Thor,” Emily insisted. This time the dog obeyed, meandering over to greet the two girls, no sign that he felt threatened. Emily took him by his collar to make sure he couldn’t change his mind and run off again. It wasn’t like him to disobey a command.

  “Jesus, be careful,” said Emily as Rhiannon stepped up close to the den and knelt down near the opening.

  A faint but familiar rhill-tik-tik-tik-tikkkkkk rose out of the den.

  “Emily, come look at this.”

  Emily ordered Thor to sit, then joined Rhiannon at the opening.

  “What am I . . . oh!”

  Inside the den, toward the back wall, Emily saw three small bodies, slightly larger than her open hand, moving together, tangled almost into a ball.