The hiss of static coming through the speakers gradually gave way to garbled voices. He turned a few more knobs, and they became intelligible. They listened in for a few seconds before Mitchell said, “Sounds like Derek and Frank are chatting with your buddy.”
“Heh! They’re wasting their time. Harrison doesn’t even like your show. Let’s see what else is going on in this town.”
“Sure thing. What’d you have in mind?”
“Everyone else is at the B&B,” Rob said with a big grin. “I know. Let’s check out Paula’s room, see if she’s talking smack about me.”
* * *
Paula let out a gasp as Wild Feather slid his full length into her. Pleasure, pain, and desire simultaneously flooded her senses. Mingled in with it all was a slight sense of disbelief. She couldn’t believe she was letting this ... this ... savage use her like this. So this is what it’s like to be taken, to be tamed, like an animal. She arched her back and bit into his shoulder. He grunted in return and began to thrust even more furiously into her.
She gasped again and began to move her hips to match his. A smile crossed her lips as another thought struck her. How disappointed would her parents be if they knew what she was doing right now? Her father would probably disown her, especially if he knew she had spread her legs – eagerly, too – for a minority. Her mother would probably call her a filthy whore.
A giggle escaped from her lips at the thought. Wouldn’t that be ironic, especially considering that’s exactly what her mother often begged to be treated like? Their house was old, and the ductwork carried sound quite well. Late at night, when her parents assumed she and her brothers were asleep, her mother’s breathless cries would carry up to Paula’s room, often followed by the crack of her father’s belt.
I can see the appeal, Mom, she thought, before turning her full attention back to Wild Feather, his naked body continuing to slide against hers. “Harder!” she moaned. “Fuck me harder, mighty warrior!”
* * *
Phil couldn’t believe how well things had worked out. His roommate still hadn’t gotten back by the time he left for Paula’s room. He was probably playing things up for Danni. To his surprise, he found himself actually rooting for Greg. Hopefully, the fucking pothead knocked her up or gave her the clap. Maybe both. Assholes! Either way, it was probably for the best that he was gone. Less questions that way, not that it was any of their fucking business what he was up to.
He decided to make his move while Paula’s dweeb boyfriend was still nerding it up with his heroes. He had thought to take her on a moonlit walk so he could start putting the moves on her with more of his “Great Spirit” bullshit. She had shown herself to be receptive. Better yet, she seemed determined to believe in his Indian charade. It was pretty hilarious, considering his mother was Columbian while his father was a salesman of Dominican descent. He was about as Native American as Paula was. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to play that up. He spent a little extra time in the mirror putting a feather back into his hair and donning his fake deerskin jacket.
What he hadn’t expected, though, was the condition he had found her in. He had no more than said “Hi” before she had dragged him into the room and locked the door behind them. She pushed him onto the bed, and it was only then that he realized her pants were already halfway off. Had she really been waiting for him? It seemed so, and he was more than happy to oblige her. Within minutes, their clothes were strewn on the floor.
Considering the hunger with which she attacked him, he never had even a moment’s consideration that she might still be a virgin. Had he suspected, he would have enjoyed it even more – although, he was greatly enjoying it as it were. It was as if he were figuratively fucking her boyfriend and that asshole, Harrison, by literally fucking her.
The only downside was her loud animalistic grunting amidst continual cries for him to take her like a savage. That part was weirding him out a little.
* * *
Inside the van, there was stunned silence for many moments. Finally, Mitchell reached over and muted the audio.
“I don’t suppose there’s any chance we accidentally tuned into Cinemax, is there?” Rob asked numbly.
“I’m so sorry, kid.”
Rob was a cluster of confused emotions. There was definitely anger and hurt, a lot of that. There was also a sickening sense of resignation. Hadn’t he suspected for a while now that he and Paula weren’t right for each other? Surely, several of his friends had dropped hints of such. Even Harrison had suggested he play the field a bit. Perhaps ... although he realized that these thoughts might just be hindsight.
However, hindsight or not, mixed in with the jumble of other emotions was also an odd sense of relief. For a few minutes, he couldn’t believe it, but yes, there was definitely a feeling of satisfaction in knowing. He would never have suspected Paula of such deceit on his own. He had bought her good little Catholic girl routine completely. There had never been any reason not to. She had always seemed genuine in her beliefs. Her family was devout, but not oppressively so, which might have dropped hints at a rebellious nature of sorts.
Most convincing of all was that the college rumor mill was entirely silent on the subject of Paula. No matter how innocent one acted or how hard one tried to keep a lid on things, gossip spread in a closed ecosystem like their campus. It wasn’t always correct, but if someone was screwing around with someone else, there was usually a third party who knew about it and was happy to spread the word.
No, he wouldn’t have suspected Paula, and thus, barring some tearful confession from her after the fact, she would have gotten away with it. She hadn’t exactly sounded like she’d been forced into it, thus he didn’t think such a confession would have been forthcoming. Even if it was, he found himself doubtful it would be all that sincere. He had to face facts: the bitch was cheating on him, and she was enjoying it.
He turned back toward Mitchell and grinned, but this time there was a predatory quality to it.
“So, tell me, does this thing have a ‘Record’ button?”
* * *
Kate Barrows wasn’t much of a drinker. She enjoyed the occasional glass of wine with dinner and was known to drink a beer while she watched the Broncos with her dad, but that was it. However, after closing up shop that night, she decided maybe a shot of something stronger wouldn’t be a bad idea. She was rattled from the earlier scare with her father, and she was most definitely still upset that Gus seemed to be missing. Adding to it all, she was also tired out from all the walking.
Earlier in the day, after talking with Grace Clemons and finding her curiosity piqued, she had decided to lock up the store and accompany her back to her home. Grace, for her part, hadn’t objected to the company. After discovering the damage, her husband, Byron, had set out with their truck for the Home Depot all the way over in Durango. Considering the distance and that he tended to get a little distracted in that store, he wasn’t expected back until sometime that night.
Grace had spent some time showing Kate what had happened. She had been right, it was weird. The coop had been torn wide open from top to bottom. Even stranger was the condition of some of the bodies. Grace had been too focused on the damage to pay the chickens much more attention other than to note they were all dead. Kate immediately saw that while a few were partially eaten, most were torn completely to shreds. Whatever had gotten into them had been in one hell of a mood. This wasn’t a feeding – more like a mass poultry murder.
She found herself as stumped as Grace. She wasn’t even sure it was an animal that had done this. Unpleasant thoughts had begun to form in her head. She began to wonder if her father hadn’t been right about Joel Bean. Maybe he had downed one too many shots of cheap liquor and gone nuts.
She had assured Grace that she would send Mark Watson out her way immediately if she saw him. Grace had thanked her, then politely escorted her back to the edge of her property. Kate’s mind was so preoccupied by then, wondering what was going
on, that she didn’t find it odd to be shooed off without even an offer to come inside for coffee.
Before leaving, though, she had stopped and turned to the other woman. There had been a nagging feeling in the back of her head. Something was wrong, and it was bothering her. “Grace, are you sure you don’t wanna come back to the store with me, at least until Byron gets home?”
“That’s sweet of you, Kate. But my place is here,” had been the unsurprising reply.
“Well then, please be careful. Whatever did that could come back.”
“Don’t you worry about me, sweetie. I’m gonna go and lock myself inside with my good friends, Smith & Wesson.”
As Kate started walking again, she had found herself oddly lamenting her own lack of a friend by her side.
Those memories were all still flitting through her mind when she walked into the town’s lone pub. “Bar and Grill” was probably a bit of a stretch, she thought. Ben Reeves, the owner, had a good-sized barbecue pit out back, but this time of the year she’d probably be lucky to get a microwaved plate of hot wings.
It was still too early for the locals to fill the place, and even then, a good chunk of them might be down south helping the search party. Regardless, she wasn’t surprised to see a few people sitting around. It was who she saw, though, that caught her off guard. She saw the college kid, the cute one from the day before. Hadn’t he been heading out into the woods for a week of camping with his friends? Apparently not, as he was sitting there with two of those reporters who had rolled into town the other day.
They appeared to be having a fairly animated conversation, but it immediately quieted down as they noticed her. One of the men had a bit of an unkempt lumberjack look to him. The other, the one who had seen her, was another prospect to her liking. Well-built, with dark sandy hair, a chiseled jaw line, mid-thirties – maybe early forties. That same voice in her head that she constantly seemed to be shushing said, Two cuties in as many days. This town is turning into a regular man-candy outlet.
The college kid, “Harry-something” she vaguely remembered, turned his head toward her and smiled. Stepping up to the bar, she inwardly sighed. She could remember that he had a cute ass, but his name, nope, no dice on that one. Definitely turning into an old cougar, the voice whispered.
“Hey!” the college kid called to her. “Kate, wasn’t it?”
“Hey, yourself,” she replied back. She sensed the bartender at her elbow and addressed him, “Tequila shooter, if you will, Ben.” That ought to steady the nerves a bit. Turning back toward the group, she said, “I thought you were off camping with your buddies.”
For a moment, it seemed as if the other men at the table shot him a warning glance, but then again, she could have just been paranoid. Considering the day she’d had, that seemed the more likely scenario, so she dismissed the thought as he began to speak.
“Yeah ... well, that got cut short. We had a little bit of an accident,” Harrison – that was his name – replied.
“Oh. Was anyone hurt?”
“Not too badly,” he told her. “Bumps, bruises, and scratches mostly.”
“What happened?” she asked. She retrieved the tumbler of Cuervo Gold from Ben, then took a step in the trio’s direction.
“Bear,” Chiseled Jaw said.
“Cougar,” replied the lumberjack simultaneously.
There was a momentary silence, during which she distinctly saw Harrison roll his eyes, then Chiseled Jaw quickly added, “It was hard to tell. It happened fast, and it was a bit chaotic.” He didn’t sound all too convincing.
“And you are?” she asked.
“Oh, sorry,” he said, getting to his feet and holding out a hand. “Derek, Derek Jenner.”
She shook his hand then asked, “You guys are those reporters, right?”
Derek glanced at the lumberjack and replied, “Something like that.”
* * *
Chuck should have been back at the bed and breakfast, specifically partaking of the bed part. Those were the doctor’s orders, and he was sure it would have been Mitch’s, too. Too bad neither of them was around to say it to his face.
He knew where Mitchell was holed up. He was also fairly sure Derek would be at the local watering hole, probably with Frank, celebrating another job well done. It was a tradition with them. The more difficult the job, the longer the celebration would go on. Considering the FUBAR this one had almost been, he didn’t expect to see them around for a while. Nor did he consider joining them, as he’d probably just be shooed back to bed like some goddamn baby.
Well, he wasn’t about to let a few little scratches stop him. He’d seen far worse in the service. Hell, he’d almost gotten his damn leg blown off in Iraq. As far as he was concerned, the best thing was to walk it off before his muscles started stiffening up. He decided a few circuits of the tiny town would do the job without the worry of pulling any stitches. If he had to go slinking back to the doc and the others found out, he wouldn’t hear the end of it for a long time.
To be on the safe side, he had veered off the main road and taken a little side street, not much more than a dirt trail itself. Here, the houses were spaced out amongst the trees. There were no streetlights, and he had to navigate via his night vision, a task he didn’t mind at all. He was nearing what he thought might be the city limits when he stopped. His body might be banged up, but his senses weren’t. He wasn’t sure what it was, but some instinct was telling him things weren’t right.
The air was still and quiet, a little too quiet. He stopped and listened. Chuck didn’t have a gun on him, but he never went anywhere without his combat knife. His hand slowly closed around the handle of the six-inch blade, and that was when the silence broke.
A loud CRACK came from the direction he’d come. It sounded as if a tree had been knocked down. It was followed moments later by another. What the hell!?
A scant second later, Chuck heard movement behind him. He turned, but his injuries had slowed him. He was a second too late as something large barreled into him.
* * *
Rob and Mitchell were busy arguing. The medic had reluctantly tuned the van’s microphones back to Paula’s room. He had been on the receiving end of a few cheating girlfriends in his day and could understand. However, he regretted doing so almost immediately and began trying to talk Rob down. “Think about what you’re doing.”
“What I’m doing? I don’t think I should be worrying about what, or more precisely who, I’m doing,” Rob countered.
“Seriously, what are you hoping to accomplish?” the older man shot back.
Rob was in the middle of opening his mouth to reply when a beeping noise diverted both of their attentions.
“Hold that thought,” Mitchell said, turning to find one of the monitors rapidly filling up with data. He pressed a button, and sheets of paper began flowing out of a laser printer bolted to the wall.
“What’s going on?” asked Rob, momentarily distracted from thoughts of petty revenge against his soon to be ex-girlfriend.
“CDC. Looks like their computer found a match.”
“What is it?”
“Hold on a minute,” Mitchell replied, collecting the pages. “Give me a second to read through it. Unfortunately, this thing doesn’t just spit out one-line answers.”
He tried his best to be patient while Mitchell paged through the results. As he neared the end of the stack, though, Rob became aware that the other man was frowning. By the time he had finished, a thin sheen of perspiration had appeared on Mitchell’s forehead.
“What’s wrong?” Rob asked.
“I think we’re in deep shit.”
The lab was powered by its own generator, thus neither was aware that – at that exact moment – all the lights in Bonanza Creek had just gone out.
Chapter 22
It’s debatable whether any of the occupants of Bonanza Creek that night, human or otherwise, would have appreciated that they were ab
out to reenact one of the pivotal moments in human evolution – an occurrence that had, in essence, set the stage for the world as we know it.
It’s doubtful the humans would have appreciated it. Though we as a people pride ourselves on our rich texts full of histories, we are a forgetful species. Our few millennia of written knowledge pale in comparison to the ten thousand years of oral history that have been forgotten. Even that is a minor blip compared to the race memories we all share, but have long since repressed in our minds – save perhaps for when we dream.
What has largely been forgotten by man is that thirty-thousand years ago, the battle for dominance amongst this planet’s hominids hadn’t yet been decided. Our ancestors, Cro-Magnon man, had waged a bloody centuries-long war of genocide against their closest competitors. Science assumes this much, but has gotten many of the details wrong.
For instance, despite our arrogance in assuming that our superior brains made our rise inevitable, for a long time the scales were tipped quite evenly amongst those vying for the top of the food chain. The second mistake is in assuming that this was strictly a war between us and the Neanderthals. It was not. There were more players on the board, the Megathropi chief amongst them. There had originally been more combatants in this battle for species dominance, and their remnants still existed, but they were no longer true threats. Homo erectus had all but been rendered extinct by then. As for the diminutive Homo floresiensis, even then they had been scrambling for the relative safety that island living provided.
All throughout Europe, Asia, and eventually North America – by way of the Siberian land bridge – a three-way war had been waged. Primitive tools, clothing, dwellings, and even the basics of agriculture had been known to all three species. What did it matter if the spear of a human was slightly sharper, if the arm of a Neanderthal could throw his twice as far? As such, each race brought its own unique strengths to the battle. Had events played out just slightly different, our world would be a greatly changed place today.
The humans were smart and cunning, but they were physically weak. If caught alone with no weapons, there were few animals that could not take them. They were clever enough to realize this, though, and were thus heavily social creatures. Where there was one human, there were many. They also had the advantage of being a warlike race. Peace with them never lasted for long.
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