Bats

by William W. Johnstone

  “How do you plan on handling calls that come in at night?” Johnny asked them.

  “We don’t,” Cal said. “The sheriff said he’ll probably lose the next election because of this decision, but he told us we weren’t here to get ourselves killed coming to the aid of people who were too goddamn ignorant or arrogant to take even the barest of precautions.”

  “He’s right,” Johnny agreed.

  “I mean, what the hell, Mr. MacBride,” Dale said. “There have been sound trucks all over this part of the parish warning people to get out. Shelters have been set up in Ferriday, Newellton and Saint Joe. There are shelters up in Madison and over in Franklin and one down in Concordia. Now, I’ll bust my butt for the people of this parish. But I’m not going to die for their stubbornness or stupidity.”

  “Chief Deputy Moody’s got a black eye right now for trying to forcibly remove two old ladies,” Cal said. “One of them slugged him. But you wait and see. I’ll bet you a new pair of boots they’ll be calling in the middle of the night for help before this is all over.”

  “I won’t take that bet. But what will you do if they call?”

  Both young men hesitated, Cal finally saying, “I don’t know, Johnny. I honest to God don’t know.”

  Johnny returned home with about an hour of daylight remaining. He fed the dogs and let them out in their protected area. They did not stay long, preferring the safety of the main house. They seemed to sense danger all around them.

  With about twenty minutes of good light left, Blair drove in.

  “You’re cutting it pretty close, Blair,” Johnny told her.

  “I know it. Did you watch that press conference?”

  “No.”

  “It was a joke. Some of the reporters even hinting that this whole thing may have been set up to bring attention to the parish; nothing more than a publicity stunt.”

  “I can believe that.”

  “One reporter even brought a so-called bat expert with him to say that what we were showing was not possible. That all this was another Piltdown Man or Big Foot or Loch Ness fabrication. Then the reporter said he and this expert were going to drive around the back roads of the parish tonight to prove it was all a hoax. Dr. Catton, on the air, called him a goddamned idiot. I walked out after that.”

  “You might not ever see that reporter and the expert again if they do drive around this night.”

  “That would not break my heart,” Blair said bluntly.

  Johnny did a walk-through of the house, checking out every window. He turned on the fence, setting it for just enough voltage to stun. Then, drinks in hand, he and Blair sat down to watch the news, local and national.

  On the local scene, the reporters were taking the situation very seriously, showing the shelters that had been set up and the few people who have agreed to be evacuated from their homes. The national news did a piece on the situation, but to both Johnny and Blair, did not stress the danger nearly enough.

  “I really didn’t expect much more than that,” Johnny said.

  Blair clicked off the set and looked through Johnny’s CDs, selecting Chopin and putting it on. It was dark out, and very quiet, no birds singing, no dogs barking, nothing except the stillness.

  Blair was standing by one of the windows in the den, looking out into the darkness, when a huge bat slammed against the wire mesh and screeched at her, showing its fangs. She almost dropped her drink, but recovered nicely.

  “They know we’re the enemy,” Johnny said, coming up behind her and putting both big hands on her shoulders. “Somehow they know that. We’re right under their fly-path and we present a danger. They’re smart, Blair. Smarter than we first thought.”

  She pressed against him, both of them having felt the spark building between them all day.

  Clinging to the wire, the winged horror stared at the couple, staring at him.

  “What did you do this afternoon?” Blair asked, a huskiness in her voice.

  “Studied maps of the parish. I never realized there were so many miles of gravel roads.”

  “Hundreds of miles of them.”

  The bat bared its awesome fangs and shrieked.

  “Oh ... shut up!” Blair said. “You ugly, vicious son of a bitch!”

  Johnny chuckled and moved his hands from her shoulders to her waist. “Now, now. Is that any way for a veterinarian to talk about animals?”

  “God didn’t create those things, Johnny. They mutated. If anything had a hand, it was the devil. I just wonder what Clyde Dingle and his bunch are making out of all this?”

  “Clyde who?”

  She giggled. “Dingle. One of the parish’s resident, certified, one hundred percent whackos. They have a coven, worship the devil.”

  Johnny turned her around and looked down at her. “You’re putting me on?”

  “No.” She walked over to the couch and sat down, Johnny right beside her. Another bat slammed into the heavy wire in one of the back rooms. They ignored the screeching.

  Blair propped her feet up on the coffee table and Johnny did the same. Blair said, “Clyde is convinced he is the servant of the devil. He’s been trying to make contact with Satan for years. Clyde is, oh, fifty or so, I suppose. He’s harmless. They’ve never engaged in any type of animal sacrifice . . . at least not to my knowledge. Phil Young used to raise and show dogs—cocker spaniels. He’s an animal lover from way back. He’d be all over Clyde and his group of screwballs at the first hint of any of them harming an animal. Any animal.” She paused. “With the exception of those . . . things out there.”

  “Where does this Dingle person live?”

  “As the crow flies, not far from here. By the road, oh, five miles or so. Johnny, why did you decide to settle here?”

  Johnny hesitated for a heartbeat. “I had to bury myself, Blair. I was too hot. Too many people had money on my head. This seemed like the perfect spot. I had picked it years before, remember? Any strangers coming into this rural area would immediately draw the attention of the police.”

  “And now you just might draw the attention of every journalist in the area.”

  “That’s true. But I’ve been at war with terrorists for most of my adult life. If they come at me, I’ll handle them.”

  Another huge bat slammed onto the wire mesh and tried to rip it free. But the wire was heavy gauge and it would take much more strength than even these mutant bats possessed to tear it off. The bat began screaming in rage.

  “Those things out there are smart, Johnny,” Blair said, putting a soft hand on his leg. “They’re smart enough to scare hell out of me.”

  “The so-called experts will change their minds, Blair. Once the killing really starts they’ll do a turnaround very quickly. And I don’t know whether that will be good or bad.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Once the government gets fully involved it’s going to get complicated. They’ll be two dozen different groups in here, at least, with no clear leader of the operation. And Blair, there are no plans drawn up, in any branch of government, any agency, to deal with bat attacks. It’s going to be chaos.”

  The bats began rattling the thick wire and shrieking out their frustration.

  “I’m the enemy again,” Johnny muttered. “It’s a feeling I’m very familiar with.”

  “I’m not!”

  Johnny smiled. “Perhaps we might think of something to do to get our attentions off those damn bats?”

  “Perhaps. You have something in mind?”

  He did.

  She was agreeable.

  * * *

  Paul Steele was going to expose this whole silly business for the hoax it was. He and his crew had rested after the press conference, with plans to prowl all night, shoot lots of film, and show everybody how ridiculous these wild tales really were. Those so-called “dead” bats were so obviously fake it was laughable. They looked like rejects from a bad horror movie.

  Paul’s career had been at a standstill for some months. He need
ed something big to jump-start it, and this, he felt, was it. Expose the whole damn thing as a publicity stunt and stick these hick bumpkins back in the last century, where they belonged. Paul had never seen such a dismal goddamn place in all his life. What the hell did people do for fun around this dump?

  Paul’s crew did not share his contempt for this part of the country, its people, or the story. Dick and Linda both felt those bats looked real enough to them, and the governor’s calling out a unit of the national guard was no stunt. The governor was a very flamboyant type, no getting around that, but he was also a highly intelligent man and a consummate politician. He had nothing to gain and everything to lose by going along with a stunt.

  “Paul,” Linda spoke from the back seat of the car as they drove toward the western part of the parish. “Think about this. People are really taking this threat seriously. There is practically no civilian traffic tonight. There are armed national guard patrols all over the place. I think we’re taking a terrible chance being out here.”

  “So do I, Paul,” Dick backed her up, just as they stopped at a national guard checkpoint. “Look at how those men are dressed. They’re in full protective gear.”

  “It’s all crap, people,” Paul said, lowering his window. “Nothing but crap and I’m going to prove it.”

  The guardsmen were not carrying M-16s, but specially issued riot guns, loaded with heavy charges of shot. And they were all taking this very seriously. Four guardsmen faced north, south, east, and west, shotguns at the ready, while the fifth man approached the car.

  “You folks better head on back to the motel, or wherever it is you’re staying,” the lieutenant told them. “It’s dangerous out here.”

  “Is that an order, Lieutenant?” Paul asked, his usual smirk in place.

  “No, sir. I can’t order you not to drive the roads. All I can do is remind you of the danger.”

  “Son,” Paul said in a very condescending manner. “It’s all a big hoax. You boys and girls are out here for nothing.”

  The lieutenant looked hard at the reporter for a moment. Then he slowly nodded his head. “It’s your ass, sir.” He turned and walked away. “Let them through!” he called, his voice muffled behind the face mask.

  “And our asses,” Linda muttered as Paul left the pocket of light and headed into the darkness.

  Dick blinked as something large, with huge wings, soared in front of them and then was gone. “What the hell was that?”

  “I saw it too,” Linda said. “God, it looked like something out of prehistoric times.”

  Paul laughed. “Just your imaginations. That’s all. Relax.”

  Dick turned his head and cut his eyes to Linda. She shrugged her shoulders. Paul was the boss, and if they wanted to keep their jobs, they did what he said.

  Paul stopped the car at a junction. A gravel road led off to the west.

  “You’re really not thinking of heading down that road, are you, Paul?” Linda asked.

  “Why not?” Paul stepped off the brake and cut the wheel.

  “Shit!” Linda muttered, as she clicked on a tiny flashlight and looked at a parish map. “This road is a dead end. It stops at the river.”

  “That’ll be a good shot. Dark waters, cypress trees, Spanish moss and all that stuff.”

  “Not to mention alligators, cottonmouths, rattlesnakes, fire ants, and bats,” Dick said glumly. Dick was from South Alabama. He was quite familiar with all the critters who lived in subtropic areas. “Big bats.”

  “There are no mutant bats, Dick,” Paul said with a laugh. “You’ll see.”

  Several miles later, the gravel road came to an end. Darkness lay all about them. That, and a terrible silence. Paul seemed not to notice the ominous silence. But Dick and Linda did. He looked back at her as Paul opened his door and stepped out. He shut the door behind him.

  “It’s too quiet,” Linda said.

  “Animals aren’t stupid,” Dick said. “They’ve sensed danger and gotten the hell gone from here. They’re showing a lot more sense than we are.”

  Something landed on top the car. Both occupants heard a faint scratching sound.

  “That ain’t no bird,” Dick whispered.

  “Why are you whispering?” Linda asked.

  “Why are you whispering?” Dick whispered.

  “Because I don’t want those damn things to know we’re in here.”

  “Come on!” Paul yelled. “Get the equipment and get out and start shooting. I’m ready.”

  “Get back in the damn car, Paul!” Linda yelled. “Get back in here.”

  “Oh, my God!” Paul shouted. “Oh, Mary full of grace. Father who . . .” Then he screamed, a horrible choking scream that was cut off, ending with a strange gurgling, bubbling sound.

  “What’s happening out there?” Linda almost yelled the words. Her heart was beating so fast she thought surely she would have a heart attack.

  “I can’t see a damn thing!” Dick said. He fumbled in the glove box. “Shit! There ought to be a law to make rental companies keep flashlights in these units. Can you see anything, Linda?”

  “Nothing. It’s black as a coal mine out there. Wait a minute. I see Paul. He’s . . . oh, my God!”

  Paul fell against the car. He could not see or speak. A large mutant bat had wrapped its wings around his head and was busy dining, tearing off large strips of flesh. The fangs had munched on Paul’s eyes and had torn his tongue out. Now it was feasting on Paul’s face and neck.

  Dick slid under the wheel and fumbled at the ignition. “Jesus!” he shouted. “The son of a bitch took the keys with him!”

  “You mean we’re . . . ?” Linda could say no more; fear had closed her throat.

  Dick’s face was ghostly pale in the gloom. “Yeah,” he managed to say. “Trapped.”

  Nine

  Johnny and Blair moved around the kitchen, preparing supper. She wore one of his shirts and nothing else, and he was bare-chested. He was not one of those bunchy muscle men. His arms were thick, but smoothly muscled. But she knew how powerful he was; he had picked her up effortlessly and carried her into the bedroom--and Blair had never been called petite.

  The bats had vanished from the house, or at least from the heavy wire mesh over the windows. But both Johnny and Blair were certain they had not gone far, and were waiting, just past the edge of light, watching the house, ready to pounce at the slightest wrong move.

  Johnny had turned the floodlights on at dusk. From the air it would look like a tiny cup of light surrounded by a huge platter of darkness.

  They had finished eating and were having coffee when the phone rang.

  “Johnny? Cal Miller. Johnny, those goddamn things are walking around on the top of the building. Me and Dale can hear them scratching and making those terrible noises like they do.”

  “Steady, Cal. That building is solid. They can’t get in. They’re trying to make you do something stupid. So don’t.”

  “Yeah. I know. I just wanted to talk to somebody. It’s spooky out here. Say, the lieutenant at the checkpoint just north of here said that some TV reporter, Paul somebody or another, and his crew ignored warnings and went driving tonight.”

  “Paul Steele?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “I always suspected he was arrogant, but I never thought him a fool.”

  “He didn’t come back either, and that’s a dead-end road. Bridge is out over the bayou a few miles up.”

  “Don’t go out there, Cal.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. I’m not. Those are grown people, not children. I’d go after a kid without any hesitation. But a grown man who ignores verbal warnings from a military checkpoint? No way. Hey, Johnny. I won’t keep you. I just needed to talk to someone.”

  “I understand, Cal. Call anytime, man. And don’t go outside.”

  “Something wrong, Johnny?” Blair asked.

  “Not really. The bats are getting bolder. They’re walking on top of that portable building down the road. Cal
just got a little spooked. And I don’t blame him a bit.”

  “They’re good deputies, both of them. But they’re not much more than kids. And it’s got to be working on them; cooped up in that small building with those creatures all around them.”

  He told her about the reporter and his crew and watched for a reaction.

  “That was the one who scoffed at us during the press conference,” Blair said. “He really made an ass of himself. I don’t wish anything bad to happen to him, but a good scare might be just the thing.”

  Johnny looked out a window. “As long as he and his crew stay in the car, it’s doubtful anything will happen to them. But if they’re foolish enough to expose themselves, they’re deliberately inviting trouble.”

  “I wonder when the government is going to act?” Blair questioned.

  “I really don’t know what they can do. If the government floods this area with men, and start a tree-by-tree, building-by-building search, I think the bats will just move. Maybe I’m wrong, but these bats are smart. I don’t know how, or where, they got this intelligence, but they have it. And I’ll be honest with you: it scares me.”

  “You’re not alone in that.”

  * * *

  Clyde Dingle and Dark Moon and Royal Crown felt like crap. The three of them were listless and irritable, and all were running a low-grade fever. They had contacted the other members of the coven and they all reported feeling bad.

  “Must be something in the air,” Clyde said.

  He was sure right about that.

  * * *

  The governor sat in his office and wondered about the situation up in North Louisiana. He’d watched the press conference and had recoiled at the sight of the dead bats. Big, ugly bastards. Vicious looking. Now he had a problem. In a few hours, he was scheduled to leave the country for the annual governors’ conference to be held in Hawaii this year. Should he go or stay and keep on top of this situation? If he stayed, what could he do? The governor from Mississippi had called and said he was going, and so was the governor from Texas. He looked at his watch. Eight hours until his flight left. He put in a call to Sheriff Phil Young.