The Invasive

by Michael Hodges

  Run.

  Ruff! Ruff!

  Yutu barked from halfway up the landing steps, startling Bishop. His first thought was how easy it would be for the hungry eel to drag Yutu into the water. He ran up the stairs and shielded Yutu. From behind came a tremendous splash as two huge eels leaped out of the water at the portion of the pier where Bishop had been standing. He heard rustling in the underbrush, the pressurized hiss, and a throaty death squeal. Then he turned to see one of the eels with the frog in its jaws. The first, bigger eel brought the limp frog to the other. After several seconds, they returned to the lake where they submerged near a fanned out area of sand. Bishop thought he saw a nest of eggs, but the light changed and the image disappeared.

  Too close.

  Yutu ceased his barking and crawled under the railing. From the safety of the high bank, they watched the eels glide back into deeper water.

  You really need to pull your head out of your ass, he thought.

  Yutu stared up at him with grateful, brown eyes, wagging his tail as if he agreed.

  One thing was certain—he and his father had never caught fish like these on Lake Gallatin.

  *

  “What was all that about?” Angela asked, back inside the cabin.

  “Don’t go near the lake,” Bishop said. “Promise?”

  “Yes.”

  Bishop took two Vicodin from his pants pocket and went for the bottle of Seagram’s on the counter. He was never much of a whiskey and firearms guy, but this was starting to become the wild west so why not.

  “What’s the latest viral video?” Bishop asked. He chugged the whiskey, saloon style.

  “Uh…is that a good idea?” Angela asked.

  “Do you have any better ones?” he asked.

  “Jesus, Bishop. What’s gotten into you?”

  “Take a look around, sweetheart. That’s what’s fucking gotten into me.”

  “Do you think you can vent somewhere where I don’t have to see it?”

  “Ninety-nine percent of the time.”

  “Ninety-nine percent of the time what?”

  “That’s the amount of time I’m your nice, levelheaded, Regular Joe. Eventually, things do piss me off, and well here we are.”

  “Can you vent away from Yutu? I don’t want you to scare him off.”

  Bishop cleared his throat and studied the cabin. He unclenched his fists and took a deep breath. “Sorry. I’m fine.” And in reality, that wasn’t a lie. The whiskey calmed his nerves in a few seconds. He felt the cut on his face, noticing it had grown puffy. He burped a raw breath of whiskey and reveled in the warmth that soothed his body.

  “How do your hands feel?” he asked.

  “What hands?” she said.

  “Good, now we’re both wasted,” he said, looking into Angela’s pretty eyes.

  Angela laughed and smirked at him.

  “The connection is password protected,” she said. “So much for getting online. How about the TV?”

  Bishop clicked the remote and the flat screen sprang to life. He leaned back on the leather sofa as Angela curled into his arms. Yutu watched them and then rested his head on Bishop’s lap. As he channel surfed, it became apparent that the 24-hour cable news networks were on a high. At last, they had something really spectacular to report on.

  CNN broadcasted a video labeled “North Dakota Unknown.” It showed a dreary sky over the prairie. Tiny green eyes bobbed above telephone poles amidst a flurry of wings.

  The small fliers.

  Voices with a rural accent whispered and then shouted in the video as the flock of fliers swarmed to the camera. Then the video ended.

  Bishop turned and flung a pillow across the cabin. “They got out,” he said.

  “Only to North Dakota,” Angela said.

  “We don’t know that.”

  “At least we didn’t see the big ones in that clip,” Angela said.

  They gathered from the various shows that Apex Valley was indeed the source and had been put under quarantine and a no-fly zone. By the time Homeland Security had put up a perimeter, there hadn’t been any survivors left to get through to them. There was a repeating clip of some official pleading with any survivors to stay indoors and wait to be rescued without any mention of when exactly that would be. It became obvious that various government departments, along with foreign governments and even the UN, were fighting to get into the act. Conservative senators wanted to nuke the valley. Alien animal activists protested the killing of the fliers. Conspiracy theorists claimed the fliers were not aliens, but because they looked somewhat like pterosaurs, were really a secret genetic project gone astray. Many demanded that the government reveal the intelligent aliens who must be here too and hidden in a bunker somewhere. The haggard presidential spokesman kept saying there was no sign of any advanced aliens on the planet.

  “Well, there we go,” Bishop said, drinking more whiskey. “Screwed by our government. And the world’s about to be screwed, too. Say hello to mah leetle fliers,” Bishop said in his best Scarface voice.

  Angela grabbed the whiskey bottle from Bishop and took a chug, feeling a trickle ooze out the corner of her mouth.

  “We have to fight,” he said.

  “That’s what we’ve been doing.”

  “No, we’ve been surviving.”

  “They government’s probably organizing in Billings, as it’s the largest city in Montana and closer to the military bases.” Bishop stretched and patted Yutu on the head. “Did you know that the reason Katrina was such a disaster was because the state and federal governments couldn’t decide on who would be in charge? They’re out there jerking around, while the valley is being completely taken over. They don’t care about this place, but I do.”

  “We could try to make it to Billings.”

  Bishop looked down at Yutu and patted him on the head.

  “I’m not going to fucking Billings,” he said out the corner of his mouth.

  “And why not?”

  Bishop burped.

  “Because I love the Apex Mountains, and I’m not going to let these things take that from me or my father. I grew up summers here. This is in my blood.”

  “Listen to yourself, Bishop. You think you’re some mountain man now? What do you owe these woods? They almost killed me and will probably end up killing both of us and Yutu. And who knows what the hell happened to Colbrick. He could be inside some monster’s stomach right now.”

  “Stop it,” he said.

  “We’re going to find Homeland Security and they will get us out of here, maybe even escort us to Billings.”

  “No we’re not,” he said. “You want to risk crossing how many road dams? We know the situation here. We know where to go and where not to go, what to do and what not to do. We have Colbrick, too.”

  “Oh wow, we’ve got Colbrick. You hear that everyone? Bishop says we got Colbrick! Look, the creatures are retreating from the mighty Colbrick! See how the fliers whimper at the sight of him!”

  “Stop it!”

  “No!”

  Angela went to punch him in the shoulder and he caught it. Then Bishop seized her wrists with one hand. He looked into her frightened eyes with the smeared mascara from the emotions of the day. They embraced, and Angela sobbed into his chest, her damaged hands dangling from his back. Bishop waited until she finished sobbing and kissed her forehead.

  *

  They woke two hours later, Bishop on the floor and Angela on the couch. Lake Gallatin shimmered through the window, sending a chill along the back of Bishop’s neck. The whole lake could be filled with eel babies as far as he could tell.

  Poison.

  It was all poison.

  Yutu trotted over from the corner where he’d been curled up.

  “You hungry, boy?”

  Yutu spun in circles.

  Bishop found some old Saltines in the pantry and Yutu snatched them up. He spooned an expired jar of peanut butter into two bowls and brought it to Angela.

 
“Dinner time,” he said.

  She sat up, reaching for the bowl of peanut butter with her bandaged hands, wincing.

  “Mmm…nothing like peanut butter for dinner.”

  “Better than nothing,” he said. “Plus, it’s loaded with calories.”

  “True. It doesn’t taste bad either.”

  Bishop went to the kitchen and tried the tap. He filled two cups and brought one to Angela.

  “Bishop…do you think the water’s OK?”

  “I think the wells are OK, maybe not the lake water…especially after what I saw in it.”

  “You never told me about it.”

  “Eel eggs.”

  “Oh.

  “From now on, we only use creeks to get water.”

  Bishop nodded and choked on the peanut butter, needing all the water in the glass before he could talk again.

  “Geeze, eat much?”

  “Funny,” he said, forcing the peanut butter down. “Sure, as long as the creeks aren’t hot spots for the others. On the way to Big J, we saw pigras down low.”

  “Yes?”

  “They were following a creek.”

  “And what about the fliers?”

  “What about?”

  “You said you saw them going up to the higher peaks.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  Angela licked her spoon and placed it into the bowl.

  “I don’t know. I feel like we could do something good here, you know?”

  “You’re not trying to pass off some sort of destiny mantra, are you?”

  “I guess I am.”

  “You’re convinced?”

  “Yes.”

  “Bishop, turn on the TV again.”

  “Why? We know more than they do.”

  “Maybe we can find out what the white-coated scientists and all their lab equipment know. Turn on the science channels.”

  Yutu jumped onto the couch between them and put his snout on Angela’s leg. They watched Discovery, The Science Channel, NOVA, Animal Planet, and National Geographic. Even History International had a special report. All the biologists confirmed the fliers could not have evolved on this planet or even been genetically engineered here. The scientists agreed they must have hatched here in the wilderness of the Apex Valley, although some did feel the need to point out that another means of transportation could be the cause. The question of why an animal and not an advanced alien was addressed while stock footage of the dogs, chimps, and other animals humans had launched into space played in the background. Les Johnson of NASA’s Advanced Propulsion Laboratory explained the difficulties of interstellar travel. He became excited at the prospect of egg-containing probes being sent out to various planets with potential for colonization as a test. How the senders of the probes could know the test was successful and that the eggs had hatched put him at a loss. If such an object had entered U.S. airspace, why didn’t we detect it? Bishop turned off the TV.

  “I have a feeling about my dad. It sounds crazy, but I feel his spirit here, even in all this shit. It’s in every breeze, in every fiber of this place. Hell, I know I’m not really superstitious or even religious. But I believe he wants us to stay and fight for the valley.”

  “Jesus, Bishop.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “We should go back and tell Colbrick.”

  “If he’s still there.”

  Angela stood and walked to the big window, peering out at the lake.

  The sun was losing its verve, dusk nudging aside the brightness.

  “My God,” she said. “They don’t know anything about the tracking devices or even the other new arrivals.”

  Yutu trotted up behind her and sat in a handsome pose, and the two of them became silhouetted against the trees and water.

  “Bishop?”

  “Yes?”

  “You said you wanted to fight for the valley?”

  “You know I did.”

  “Well here’s your chance.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Angela gazed at her husband and marveled at how fiery he looked, coiled for action.

  “We can’t send a message to tell anyone what’s going on,” she said. “I’m getting this strange feeling we need to do something soon. You keep looking at those tags.”

  “I’m counting the flashes. They’re getting faster.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing good, I’m betting.”

  The mellow hues of sunset disappeared, and evening shrouded the land. Owls did not hoot from snags, nor did the haunting call of loons echo across the lake. These native birds had moved on.

  *

  Bishop made a mean cake. A real mean cake.

  Chocolate with stale frosting. Vegetable oil was used in place of eggs. He served it to Angela on fancy dinner plates with a glass of water.

  “So Miss, what are your plans tonight?”

  “To survive.”

  “Anything else?”

  “To get wasted?”

  “After the cake,” Bishop said. “I’m declaring tonight a continuation of our anniversary celebration. The fliers did not hear us, and we also killed a secapod. Talk about a great fucking day.”

  “After dessert,” she said with a mouthful of chocolate cake.

  Bishop laughed and opened a box of Triscuits for Yutu, who ravaged them across the hardwood floors.

  “We deserve this cake,” she said, working the fork so it didn’t hurt her hands.

  “I wonder what Colbrick is eating?” Bishop asked.

  “He probably cooked up some frequency seals.”

  Bishop looked down at Yutu. “You’d like Colbrick, buddy. He’s a no-nonsense guy, and you’re a no-nonsense dog.”

  They finished the decadent cake, and Bishop brought out another bottle of whiskey.

  “Happy anniversary,” he said, smiling.

  “Didn’t you know they say drinking too much is bad for you?” Angela said, beaming.

  “They are probably gone,” he said.

  “Are the doors locked?” she asked.

  “Yes. I even counted to five as I held them.”

  “Your OCD is kicking in a bit?”

  “I’m a little hyped up.”

  Angela took the whiskey bottle and chugged. A rivulet of the harsh elixir trickled out the corner of her mouth and moistened her lips. “Here’s to the Apex Valley,” she said.

  Bishop took the bottle from her and drank.

  They were new. Their softness had been replaced by taut sinewy muscles and minds as sharp as hunter’s knives. Ancient reflexes and instinct inherited from distant ancestors awoke within them. Angela walked over to the first-floor bathroom. She turned on the shower. It worked. She undressed and stepped in, letting the warm water clean her of the day’s violence. She held her bandaged hands high, letting the water do all the work. Yutu sat outside the bathroom door, glancing back at Bishop and panting.

  *

  Bishop looked upon the black lake and the tree tops silhouetted against the night sky. The first few stars shone on the horizon. Before the invasion, the stars had felt alien to him. He thought he was crazy, for whenever he would gaze into the Milky Way, he could feel turbulent rivers in ancient canyons not of this world, and then would see and hear the waters and mountains of this world, and somehow these two things met across the endless gulf, interconnected. But on this night, he did not receive that familiar feeling. Tonight, he felt that the stars were an escape, a lost prayer, and that the world he stood on had become the alien one.

  “What are you looking at?” Angela asked, wrapped in a towel.

  “Everything.”

  “It’s still very pretty,” she said.

  “So are you,” he said.

  “Cheesy, baby.”

  “Maybe, but still true.”

  Angela sighed and rested her head on Bishop’s chest. Her damp hair soaked through his shirt and cooled his skin.

  “Could they really be from another planet?” Angela
asked.

  “I guess it’s possible. But…they could’ve been here longer than we think. A lot longer.”

  Bishop stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. Yutu pleaded up at them and licked his chops, and Bishop tossed another triscuit.

  Bishop stared out at his beloved valley, put his arm around Angela, and drew her closer against his chest. “It’s here,” he said. “We just have to find it. Every living creature has a mother. These new arrivals do too. Somewhere in this valley lies their seed mother. If we’re going to survive, we need offense.”

  “Now we’re fighting!” she said.

  Bishop grinned, but it was a nervous one.

  They made love all night in the upstairs bedroom. In another world, in another time, this would have been the last night of their anniversary getaway.

  *

  “It’s time,” Bishop said, taking his shotgun and opening the front door.

  Angela peered outside. Her vision had always been better than Bishop’s. “Clear.”

  They trotted to the truck, all the while scanning their perimeter. Angela hustled inside the cab, and Bishop jogged to the generator and switched it off, then checked the fuel level. Not enough gas to make it worth the effort. He shut the shed door, and a sense of purpose tingled in his chest. The truck started without incident and they rolled along the crunching gravel.