Bats

by William W. Johnstone

  “What’s the situation up there, Sheriff?”

  “Quiet right now,” Phil told him. “The national guard troops are all in place and we’ve had no reports of any bat attacks so far this evening. But they are getting bolder.”

  “Explain that.”

  Phil told him about the bats walking around on the roof of the substation.

  “Did your deputies actually see the bats up there?”

  “Well . . . no. Hell, governor, they’re not going to step outside and risk getting nailed.”

  “Have any of the guardsmen seen any bats?”

  “No. None.”

  “All right, Phil. Thanks. Good night.”

  Still, the governor was not certain what he should do. He placed another call, to the motel where the government experts were staying.

  “Governor, we don’t believe there are any more of these mutant bats,” he was told. “We absolutely discount the claims of this MacBride person that he saw hundreds or thousands of these large bats flying over his house. That would mean there was a colony of them, and that is simply not the case. We believe a few bats mutated and now they are dead. There is no more danger to the citizens of that parish. Oh, there might be one or two of these poor creatures left, but certainly no more than a few. And feel free to quote me on that.”

  The governor did just that. On the ten o’clock news, he said, “Government experts have assured me that the situation in North Louisiana has stabilized and that the bat threat is now virtually nonexistent. However, the national guard troops will remain in place for a few more days and I urge all residents of that area to exercise caution in moving about and to stay in their homes at night until an all-clear can be given.”

  “He’s been receiving some really bad advice,” Blair said, then jumped as a large bat leaped onto the wire of the den window and rattled it, howling in rage.

  The bright lights did not seem to bother them at all.

  Johnny looked at the bat and said, “Virtually nonexistent, huh? What do you think about that statement, you ugly bastard?”

  The bat screamed at him and bared its teeth.

  * * *

  Linda and Dick sat in the car and stared in horror as the bats devoured Paul Steele. Then the huge bats turned their attentions to the car. It was all both occupants could do to keep from screaming.

  “Not a sound, Linda,” Dick whispered. “Don’t agitate them. Maybe when they see they can’t get in, they’ll leave us alone.”

  Linda was so scared all she could do was nod her head in agreement.

  The bats walked on the hood, the trunck, the roof. They clung to the radio antenna and to the side mirrors, shrieking and baring their fangs. Some of them had a thick, ropy substance leaking from their mouths.

  It soon became apparent to the bats that they could not get to the occupants of the car. They ceased their biting at the glass and one by one, flew away. But some of them did not go far. About a dozen perched on fences on both sides of the gravel road and stared at the car.

  “I thought bats had to hang upside down,” Linda said, breathing a bit easier now.

  “So did I,” Dick said. “But I guess somebody forgot to tell these.”

  “When they do leave, if they leave, we’re going to have to get the keys from Paul.”

  “Yeah. If we can find them. Those bats ripped the clothes from him. Those keys might be fifty yards away. Jesus, Linda—they ate him! There were hundreds of them.”

  “Dick ...” She held a hand to her mouth for a moment. “Sorry. I thought I was going to be sick. These... things, they don’t just drink blood. They eat flesh.”

  Dick burped. “I noticed, Linda. I really, really did.” He glanced at the luminous hands of his watch. 10:15. “It’s going to be a long night, dear heart.”

  “I gotta go to the bathroom, Dick.”

  “Don’t even talk about things like that!”

  “Well, I do!”

  “Hold it.”

  “That’s easy for you to say.”

  “No, it ain’t. But I’ll make a deal with you.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll trade you a cork for a rubber band.”

  Then near hysteria turned to giggles of giddy relief. They were going to make it. They weren’t going to die on this dark night. They were going to live!

  But they both still needed to pee.

  * * *

  The citizens of that part of the parish were stubborn as far as their unwillingness to leave, but they weren’t fools. They pulled in their house pets, barned their horses, and stayed in the house after the sun sank over the horizon. But only a very few took the precautions that Johnny did, and the reasons they didn’t were varied. Many couldn’t afford it. Many of the older people were not physically capable of doing it. Some were just lazy. Others felt that the precautions they had taken were enough. They were wrong.

  But they would all live to see a few more dawnings. Before the real horror began.

  * * *

  Just before boarding the plane that would take him to the Dallas/Fort Worth airport, where he would connect for the nonstop to Honolulu, the governor made one more call to Sheriff Phil Young.

  “Any reports of trouble last night, Phil?”

  “Not a thing, Governor. It was all quiet.”

  “You think it’s over?”

  “I ... have my doubts about that.”

  “The experts assure me it is.”

  “Experts have been known to be wrong, sir.”

  “Well, I’ll be in Hawaii at the governor’s conference. The Lieutenant Governor can handle anything that comes up. Let’s keep our fingers crossed on this, Phil.”

  And our shotguns loaded, the sheriff thought, but kept that to himself. “Yes, sir, Governor. Have a nice trip.”

  “Thank you, Phil.”

  Phil looked out the window of his office. He’d been there since long before dawn. Now the sun was rising on what appeared to be a cloudless day. “And an uneventful one,” Phil muttered.

  * * *

  Johnny had been up long before dawn, leaving Blair to sleep a few more hours. He’d let the dogs out only after he made a visual of their runaround area, and after they’d done their business, they wanted back in without having to be called. Just as the sun was coming up, Johnny heard the sounds of the shower running and went into the kitchen to start breakfast. He was jumpy this morning, and did not understand the why of it. But Johnny was a hunch player, and he had him a hunch that something terrible had happened during the night. He called Cal at the substation.

  “Did those reporters return from their travels last night, Cal?”

  “No. And I just spoke with the lieutenant up the road. They’re still out there, Johnny.”

  “Damn! All right, Cal, listen. Just as soon as the sun is fully up, I’ll go looking for them. You say they went north?”

  “Straight toward Cherokee Bayou where the bridge is out. They didn’t come back so they have to be out there somewhere. But you don’t have a radio, Johnny.”

  “The sheriff gave me a walkie-talkie.”

  “Somebody will hear you.” I hope, he silently added.

  Ten

  As they drove north, Blair said, “Have you noticed, Johnny, that there are no birds?”

  “Yes. No songbirds, no hawks, no nothing. They’ve left to mate elsewhere.” He picked up his walkie-talkie. “Johnny to substation. Do you read me?”

  “Loud and clear, Johnny. Where are you?”

  “Coming up on a gravel road to the left. I’m going to take it.”

  “That’s the old Gun Ridge road. It dead-ends.”

  “Ten-four.”

  Two miles later, Johnny caught the glint of sunlight off a car. “There they are, I guess.” He took his binoculars from their case and brought them into focus. There was something on the road by the car. But he could not make out what it was.

  But he made a silent bet that he could make a pretty good guess. He handed the glasses to Blair.
“On the left side of the car, in the road.”

  “I see it. But I don’t know what it is. It’s . . . well, sort of flat.”

  He edged the truck forward, with all the windows up. Two shotguns lay behind them, in the extended cab. As they drew closer, they could see two people in the car, both of them waving frantically and pointing.

  “Bats, Johnny!” Blair said. “In the ditch to the left of the car.”

  “I see them. Hand me my shotgun.” Johnny shucked a round into the chamber, lowered his window, and emptied the tube into the ditch. The booming was enormous inside the cab. But he had seen half a dozen of the ugly bats torn to bits by the heavy charge.

  “Get in the back, Blair. I’m going to pull up close and let them in.”

  Blair scrambled into the back. She leaned over and made ready to open the door at Johnny’s signal. He edged the truck closer and now could see the ripped-apart carcass of what was left of Paul Steele. He had to crunch over the rib cage of the dead man to get close to the car.

  “Jesus!” Blair said.

  “Keep your breakfast down. He didn’t feel a thing, I assure you.”

  Blair kept her breakfast down, but did so only with a supreme effort.

  Johnny pulled in close, but with enough room so both doors could be opened. He lowered the right side window and called, “Let’s do this fast, people. On three.” He counted down and the young man and woman made the shift, fear adding to their swiftness. Johnny backed up, again crunching over the bones of Paul Steele. He did a fast turnaround and made the blacktop. The bats did not follow. He had a hunch that the bladders of the couple were near bursting, and when he reached a spot that was clear on both. sides of the parish road, he pulled over and got out, shotgun in hand.

  “Boys to the right and girls to the left,” he said. “This is no time for modesty. Make it quick, folks.”

  The pair relieved themselves and were back in the truck quickly. Johnny slipped the truck in gear and said, “You two can shower and rest at my place. It’s just a few miles down this road. I’ll use the phone to call the sheriff. It’s too chancy using the radio other than to say we’re all right.” He keyed the walkie-talkie.

  “Go ahead, Johnny,” Cal came back almost instantly.

  “We’re all right. I’ll call you from my house.”

  “That’s ten-four.”

  “We tried to tell Paul not to prowl around at night,” Linda said. “But he’s . . . was . . . stubborn.”

  “Also arrogant and a fool,” Johnny added.

  Linda cut her eyes to him. This man isn’t afraid, she thought. He’s . . . more than capable to deal with this situation, she found the words. And he’s cold as ice. There is a story here. But I’m not so sure this guy wants it told. She didn’t know why she sensed that, but she was pretty sure she was right. Hell, he saved my life! she concluded. If he wants anonymity, he can have it.

  “I don’t want to speak ill of the dead,” Dick said. “But you’re right.”

  Johnny turned in at his road and used the electronic opener to raise the garage door. He pulled in quickly and lowered the door. “Stay in the truck,” he said, stepping out, shotgun at the ready. He looked around slowly and carefully. But no bats had gained entrance to his garage. “Come on. It’s safe.”

  Inside the house, Blair said, “You’re about my size, Linda. I’ve got some spare clothing. Come on. I’ll show you the bathroom.”

  “You can wear some of my clothes while yours are being washed,” Johnny told Dick. Bathroom’s in there.” He pointed.

  Johnny called the sheriff’s substation and told Cal what they’d found, ending with, “There isn’t much left. It’s obvious that these mutants not only drink blood, but also eat the flesh. These so-called government experts are all wrong. I figure that we know just about as much as they do—maybe more. These bats are not predictable.”

  “The sheriff’ll be out in a few minutes. I just talked with him. I guess then we’ll go out and get this reporter’s body. Or what’s left of it.”

  “Which isn’t much. I ran over it a couple of times.”

  Cal belched. “I could have done without that, Johnny. Talk to you later.”

  Blair made a fresh pot of coffee and together they waited for Dick and Linda to join them. The dogs were content to stay close, showing no interest in leaving the house. The network people joined them in the den, both of them freshly scrubbed and very subdued.

  “It’ll hit the fan now,” Dick said. “I mean, once Paul’s death is reported.”

  “I rather doubt his death will be reported,” Johnny replied.

  “Suppressing the news, Mister MacBride?” Linda asked.

  “Sometimes it’s necessary. And this is one of those times.”

  To her surprise, Dick agreed. “This could cause a nationwide panic. People would be going out and killing every bat colony they could find. And that would really screw up the ecosystem. Bats are really very beneficial.”

  “Not those we saw last night!” Linda said, considerable heat in her voice.

  “They’re mutants,” Blair said, deciding to level, at least in part, with the network people. “The problem is we don’t know how many of them there are.”

  “One would be too damn many,” Dick said.

  Linda stood up to walk to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. In the dining room, she abruptly stopped, stared at the window, and began screaming. Johnny, Blair, and Dick were at her side in seconds. The window she had glanced at was darkened with the shapes of bats, clinging to the heavy wire. There were eight or ten of them, all crowded together, all silently baring their teeth in a hideous grimace. About half of them had a thick, milky-white substance drooling from their mouths.

  “Take it easy,” Johnny told her. “They can’t get in.”

  “Broad daylight,” Blair said softly. “A sunshiny day. And the light isn’t affecting them.”

  Linda started coming unglued at that and Johnny motioned for Dick to get Linda out of the room. Then he went to his medicine cabinet and got one of the dog’s Valiums and filled a glass with water. “Give this to Linda and have her lie down,” he told Dick. “They can’t get inside the house. I have sheets of expanded metal we can nail up inside if by some miracle they did manage to tear that heavy outside wire down. So just take it easy.”

  Johnny phoned the sheriff’s substation and caught Cal just as he was about to leave with the sheriff. “Cal! Look outside carefully before you leave the building.” He told him what was taking place at his house.

  Sheriff Young grabbed the phone. “Johnny! The goddamn things are all over this building. They’re hangin’ off the wire we put over the windows.”

  “Same thing they did with the press car last night. They’re trying to make you do something stupid, Phil. Hang tight.”

  “Don’t you worry. Wait a minute. Hold on.” He was back in a few seconds. “They’re gone, Johnny. They just all took off at once.”

  “Be sure they are gone, Phil. They did the same last night at the car. But they only moved away a few yards and waited. Take another look out the window.”

  The sheriff was back in a few seconds. “Be damned if you aren’t right, Johnny. They moved back into the trees, into the shadows.”

  Johnny looked at the dining room window. The bats were gone. He lifted the phone. “Same here, Phil. But I’ll wager they’re in the shadows of the timber. That might mean that they can only stand the bright sunlight for short periods of time. Or it might mean nothing at all. How about those national guard boys?”

  “And girls,” Phil corrected. “Several females in that bunch. They’ve all taken refuge in a trailer I provided for them. And they’ve worked all morning putting up wire. They’re all right. Look, the radio is squawking. I’ll holler at you later. Take care.”

  He hung up before Johnny could warn him not to do anything stupid. He turned. Blair was standing close. “It’s getting down to the wire now, Blair. I’ve been jumpy, tensed-up, all morning. I thi
nk tonight is going to be bad. Real bad.”

  “The way those bats are behaving, ‘bad’ might not wait until the night.”

  “Yeah. I thought about that too.”

  * * *

  Clyde Dingle felt really strange. And Dark Moon and Royal Crown were acting weird too. Weirder than usual. Which meant their actions were really off the wall. Clyde was thirsty, but for some reason that was beyond his realm of understanding, he simply could not bring himself to get near water. Just the thought of it made his throat constrict. And he was experiencing some weird hallucinations; sort of like when they all messed with peyote that time. But these were violent hallucinations and they frightened Clyde. All his life he had repressed his violent side... most of the time. Years back he had succumbed to the evil within; but that involved nothing more than a stupid cop and a meddling old fart of a priest who got too close to things that didn’t concern either of them.

  But now the pull of evil was so strong within Clyde he knew he would not be able to contain it. So he said to hell with it (literally) and let the emotions grow stronger and stronger.

  Clyde sat on the floor of his den and looked at Dark Moon and Royal Crown. The women were drooling, a thick, ropy slobber. Clyde thought it rather attractive. He felt wetness on his hands and looked down. He was pleased to find that he, too, was slobbering all over himself.

  Clyde crawled over to the women and the three of them stared at each other for a moment. Then they began playing patty-cake with the slaver. It was a fun game. Come the night it was going to be a lot more fun. Clyde was sure of that.

  * * *

  At the sheriff’s substation, the national guard trailer, and Johnny’s house, the bats disappeared as quickly as they had arrived. Johnny and Blair stood on the front porch and watched them leave in a dark rush of wings.

  “It’s almost as if they were controlled,” Blair muttered. “But that’s impossible.” She looked up at Johnny. “Isn’t it?”

  Dick and Linda were sound asleep in their bedrooms, exhausted after a sleepless night.

  “Yes,” Johnny said. “Unless . . .” He trailed that off into silence.