But this thing...he held up his arm. The central spire of the distant structure was barely covered by his forearm, stretching from his elbow nearly to the tip of his middle finger.
“It must be a mile high,” Radar commented.
“Bigger,” Griffin said. “Much bigger.”
Out of habit, Griffin reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, aimed the camera at the view and snapped a photo. He frequently took photos of things he thought would look good in a painting.
The radio on Griffin’s hip crackled to life, making all three jump. Rule’s voice came next. “Griff, are you there? Over.”
“Shit,” he said, pocketing the phone. He unclipped the radio and pressed the call button. “I’m here.... Just looking at the view.” He realized Rule wasn’t going to make it to Ashland or anywhere else. “Listen, you need to turn around. Come back to town. The road to Ashland isn’t passable. Over.” It sounded stupid, but he couldn’t think of any other way to explain, without sounding insane. Turned out he didn’t have to.
“You can see the sand from Main Street?” Rule asked. “How far does it go?”
“For as far as I can see,” he said. “Are you guys okay down there?”
“Not even close,” she said. “We found Monty’s car wrecked on the side of the road. Susie’s dead, but the girls and Monty are missing. We’re going to look for them, but…”
A sharp retort coupled with static burst out of the small speaker. Then it repeated. The gentle static of a transmitting signal disappeared. The radio went silent. He waited a moment, hoping Rule would press her call button again. When she didn’t, he pressed his. “Becky, what happened? Over.”
No reply.
“Becky? Please respond.”
Nothing.
Griffin looked back at the frightened faces of Radar and Lisa. He’d heard enough gunfire over a radio to recognize the sound, but he didn’t think either of the teens would have. Of course, they didn’t need to know someone was shooting a gun to feel afraid. The giant alien structure stabbing out of the horizon could do that on its own.
“You two follow me,” he said, knowing that one of the best ways to calm people down was to give them something to do. “I need your help with something.”
Griffin ran up the police station steps and opened the front door. “Hurry,” he said, waving them inside. Lisa was still pretty shaken up, but Radar looked alert and helped her inside the station. Griffin took one last look around. The town was quiet. Probably still asleep. He drew his pistol, looked at it for just a moment and chambered that first round before sliding it back in place.
“Damnit,” he said, and then he slipped inside the station.
15
Rule charged up a sand dune. Each step slid through the sand, carrying her only half the distance her stride normally provided. The effort it took to maintain a jogging speed felt closer to a sprint. She ignored the burning in her chest and the sharp sting in her throat, as the hot, dry air wicked the moisture away from her mouth with each exhalation. Her body had begun to itch as her sweat evaporated just as quickly as her body could pump it out. But she didn’t slow. Didn’t even consider it. The trail of footprints kept her on course. The gunshots, still fresh in her ear, kept her motivated.
Her job was to protect the people of Refuge, and right now, one of them was in trouble. Maybe all three of them were. She’d be damned before letting an otherworldly desert keep her from performing her duty. She could deal with the psychological fallout from their situation when or if she had a few minutes by herself. Then she might bawl her eyes out. Release all the anxiety she was feeling in a few weepy minutes. But until that opportunity presented itself, she’d bury the feelings deep and do her job.
The sand beneath her feet slipped out from under her, and she started falling forward. Frost planted her hand firmly on Rule’s butt, shoving her up and forward. The deputy had followed her sheriff without a word. Without hesitation. Rule felt a bit of pride. She was the only female sheriff in all of New Hampshire, and she had one of the best female deputies supporting her, in this case, literally.
As she hurried up the sand dune, a shadow fell over her. A large wavering thing that slid past like a giant wavering snake. She glanced up toward the light purple sky, but saw nothing. Whatever it was, it had flown away. Probably a hawk, she thought, out exploring the strange new environment.
She nearly fell again, but not because of the sand. As she crested the dune, signs of a scuffle emerged. The sand was a mess, and there were thick clumps of it where liquid had landed. Rule knelt, placed her fingers on one of the small beads of sand and pinched. Although much of the water had already been leached away, the bead was still wet and smeared red against her fingers.
Blood.
“Monty!” Rule shouted, then louder. “Monty!”
A distant voice responded. She couldn’t make out the words, but it was Monty. Without looking back or up, she surged down the opposite side of the dune, sliding more than running to the bottom. The path led through a twisting valley between two dunes.
Running faster on the flat surface, Rule barreled around a bend and nearly slammed into Monty. He was crouched on the ground, bleeding from a wound on his shoulder and clutching both of his girls. She took a moment to catch her breath, the blood rushing behind her ears loud enough to drown out the faint buzzing sound in the air.
“Cover us,” Rule said to Frost. She was surprised to see Dodge and Winslow arrive just behind Frost. Both men were braver than she would have guessed. She crouched down and looked at the girls. Both had their eyes open, but appeared to be in some kind of shock. Her instinct was to get them talking. Find out if they were injured. But she thought it could wait, given the surreal circumstances and the fact that Monty had shot at something or someone twice, and there wasn’t a body or blood to show for it.
“Can you stand?” she asked Monty.
He just stared at her, his bottom lip quivering. He was as shocked as his girls. She took hold of his uninjured arm and squeezed. “Monty, we need to get back to town. We need to—”
“Run,” he whispered. “Just run.”
“Monty.”
He focused on Rule’s eyes.
“It’s just us. Your friends. No one else is here.”
He turned his head to the side and down. She followed his eyes and saw his shotgun, the barrel bent to the side. She nearly cursed, but held it in. What could have done that? Crushing a shotgun barrel would take a lot of force—mechanical force. She wasn’t even sure a lion’s powerful jaws had the PSI to compress a cylinder of hardened steel.
“We’re getting you home,” Rule said, yanking Monty up. She turned to Dodge and Winslow. “Take the girls and follow the path back. We’ll be right behind you.”
As Dodge and Winslow moved in for girls, Monty tightened his grip. “No! They can’t have them! They can’t—”
The sharp report of a bare hand striking flesh made everyone jump. Rule lowered her hand. She’d slapped Monty hard across his cheek. The jolt shook some of the panic from him.
“Monty,” Rule said, her voice firm, but controlled. “We’re tryin’ to save your family. Now snap out of it.”
He loosened his grip on the girls, allowing Dodge and Winslow to scoop them up. They turned together and ran back the way they’d come.
“Go with ’em,” Rule told Frost. “Keep those girls safe.”
Frost hesitated for just a moment, then gave a nod and chased after the others.
“What did that to your shotgun, Monty?” Rule asked. She knew they should be running, too, but she wanted to know exactly what kind of danger they were in. Remembering the shadow from earlier, she glanced up, looking for a bird of prey. But the sky was empty and still very purple.
“Wrong direction,” Monty said. His voice quivered and nearly didn’t make it out of his throat.
She turned to him. “What?”
“They’re in the sand,” he said.
Her eyes widened
a bit as she realized he hadn’t been looking at the shotgun earlier, he’d been looking at the sand.
A slight vibration caused the sand around her feet to dance around. Monty whimpered like a frightened dog.
“Can you run?” she asked.
He nodded rapidly.
Before either could take a step, the sand atop the dune to their right began to rise up. They stood transfixed by the sight. The sand was alive. Not alive, Rule realized as it fell away, but the creature within the shroud of falling grit was certainly alive.
A dry wind kicked up, pulling the sand away from the body, which continued to rise up, fifteen feet into the air. With a shake, the rest of the sand fell away, revealing a figure cloaked in shredded, pale fabric, which billowed in the wind. The creature had two arms and two legs. Humanoid. But not human. No way was that thing human. It was nine feet too tall, and the way it stood was wrong, bent sharply at the spine, knees twitching in both directions. The head—if it was a head—was wide and flat, with spherical insect-like eyes that stared down at her with curiosity.
The eyes could have been goggles, but she didn’t think so. A shifting color beneath the shimmering octagonal divisions gave her the distinct feeling that this thing was sizing them up.
“Kill it,” Monty said. “Kill it!”
Rule had never fired her weapon at a person before. She raised her gun, but hesitated. “Is that what took the girls?”
“One of them,” he replied.
One of them. Great.
A low gurgling sound emanated from the thing. The sound was so foreign and loud that Rule flinched and pulled the trigger, sending a round into the monster’s chest. It jolted back when the bullet struck home, but seemed otherwise indifferent.
Fear took hold of Rule and squeezed her chest. A panic attack coming on strong. Realizing she was going into shock, like Monty, she pulled the trigger twice more, aiming for the thing’s head. It staggered back and let out a grunt. The bullets definitely hurt it, but it didn’t fall over dead like it should have.
Monty tugged on her arm. “Let’s go.”
The man-beast reached behind its back and tugged a black sword out of the sand. The blade wasn’t flat like a traditional sword, but more like a pyramid that had been stretched out eight feet to a perfect, needle sharp tip. She staggered back as Monty continued pulling at her, but her legs had gone soft.
All it has to do is take one step forward, she thought, and it will be in striking distance.
She shook her head as a buzzing sound grew in volume. She was determined to keep her eyes focused on the monster.
Bong!
The sound was distant. Hard to hear. But it slammed into her thoughts like an atom bomb, returning some clarity and rooting her back in the world she knew and understood.
The church bell is ringing.
Again.
Why would it be...
Her stream of thought was interrupted.
Bong!
Rule sucked in a breath and spun around. The church bell was ringing, and that scared her more than the monster now at her back. She shoved Monty ahead of her and shouted, “Run! It’s starting again!”
16
“Let me out, you scrawny piece of shit!” Avalon’s voice echoed against the concrete walls of the police station’s back room. Radar didn’t react to the shouting. First, because he had orders from her father to keep her locked up no matter what. He didn’t fear Griffin, but he respected him enough to listen to him. Second, Avalon at her worst couldn’t match the volume or ferocity of his father. Ignoring her was a piece of cake.
Not that he was ignoring her completely. It was his job to make sure she was taken care of, too. “I can get you a cup of water if you want.”
Avalon’s hair hung in wet tendrils. She looked tired and in pain. Water was all he could think to offer her. She sat on the cot, closed her eyes and rubbed her temples.
“Are you okay?” Radar asked.
“I’m just dandy, Josh.”
The venom in her voice made him pause for a moment. She wasn’t the girl he remembered. Speaking quietly, he said, “You can call me Radar.”
Her voice softened a bit. “Thought you hated that.”
He shrugged. “Got used to it. Everyone calls me Radar now.”
“Mind turning down the lights, Radar?” she asked.
“The lights?”
“Head is killing me. The light makes it worse.”
Radar moved to the light switch. “Sure.” He flipped the switch, dimming the light. He couldn’t make the room completely dark, though. Purple light streamed through the windows.
“What time is it?” Avalon asked.
“Umm, midnight, I think.”
“What’s all the light from?” She glanced at the back wall of the station like she could see through it. “There’s nothing but trees back there.”
Radar gave her a funny look. How could she not know? But then he remembered she’d been asleep. Or more likely, passed out. He lived with a drunk. He knew the difference between sleep and unconsciousness. One looked peaceful, the other looked like something closer to death. Yeah, he thought, she was passed out.
“You don’t know, do you?” he asked.
“Know what?” She was beginning to grow agitated again. “You know what, forget it. Doesn’t matter. I barely remember the last twenty-four hours. I have no idea how I got in this cell. And I don’t really care. I found my father, right?”
Radar nodded. “He left me in charge of you.”
“Where is he now?”
“Went to help the Sheriff.”
“The Sheriff?” She closed her eyes. Shook her head. “That’s Becky now, right? I think I saw her last night...or was it tonight? Where’s Frost?”
“With the Sheriff. Before you ask, Officer Sweeney isn’t here, either.”
Avalon sighed and leaned her head straight back. “Please, God, don’t tell me they left you in charge.”
“Uh, yeah,” Radar said. “Kinda did. Sorry. Can I get you some water now?”
Avalon’s head all but fell forward. She returned to massaging her temples. “Sure. Couple of ibuprofen would be great, too.”
Radar hesitated. Griffin had told him that Avalon was in detox. That she’d been addicted to a painkiller. And no matter what, he couldn’t get any for her. Not from a stash. Not from home if his dad had any. And not from the pharmacy. She wasn’t asking for that drug, but ibuprofen was a painkiller too.
She must have sensed his hesitation, because she added, “I’m an Oxycontin addict, not ibuprofen.”
“Is there a difference?”
“Yeah,” she said. “One makes you high as a kite, the other takes care of headaches and melts your stomach.”
Oxycontin. That was the stuff. Griffin didn’t say anything about any other drug, and just about everyone had a big bottle of ibuprofen in their medicine cabinet. Radar decided it would be okay and said, “Okay, I’ll be back in a minute.”
He quickly searched the station’s kitchen drawers and found a small bottle of acetaminophen. Not the same, but it should do the trick. He tapped three pills into his hand—her headache looked bad—and put the bottle back. He then found a cold bottled water in the fridge and a chocolate pudding that probably belonged to Sweeney, who had a sweet-tooth. After locating a plastic spoon, he quickly checked on Lisa, who was watching the sun rise out the front window, then returned to the cell and presented his findings.
He held the items through the cell bars. “Okay, three acetaminophen. Not what you asked for, but I’m pretty sure they melt your stomach, too. A bottle of water to wash it down, and a pudding to help avoid the previously mentioned stomach melting.”
Avalon stood with a groan, but smiled when she saw the offering. “Thanks.” She took the pills with the water, tore open the pudding. Polished it off in four heaping spoonfuls and then chugged the water until the bottle was drained.
“Is there a chance you’ll puke all that up?” Radar aske
d. He’d noticed the congealed vomit beside the bed. Its odor was hard to ignore.
Avalon glanced back at the mess. “I think I’m past it. But I’m awake now. I’ll aim for the bucket.”
“Radar...” Lisa called him from the front room, drawing his name out. She sounded tense.
“Go ahead,” Avalon said. She sat down. “And sorry for calling you a little shit.”
“Scrawny little shit,” Radar corrected.
Avalon smiled. “Right. Sorry.”
“Radar!” Lisa shouted.
He left the back room, entering the front room quickly. Lisa stood a few steps back from the window, her hands rubbing her ears.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Do you hear that?”
He didn’t hear anything at all, but he stopped walking and turned his head to the left. He was about to say he heard nothing, but then something tickled his ear. It was faint. Like a hum. “I think...”
Bong!
The church bell rang.
Radar flinched back, tripped on a chair and ended up sitting on Sheriff Rule’s desk. Lisa screamed.
Across the room, Radar saw a radio sitting atop a cabinet. He rushed to it, picked up the device and flicked the power switch. Nothing happened. The battery was dead.
“Is it happening again?” Lisa asked.
The church answered.
Refuge Book 1 - Night of the Blood Sky Page 8
