Captain Alden looked at the dead bats on the tables. He shook his head. “I wonder if anyplace is safe?” he said softly.
Eight
Dr. Maggie Barstow had already been in touch with Blair about the new bat findings. Her face was grim as Johnny entered the house. One look at her and he knew she had been informed.
“We’ve got to get the kids out of here, Johnny.”
“Yeah. I agree. Got any ideas on where to send them?”
“I have a friend in Baton Rogue who would take them in without question.”
“Tell them to pack up.”
“I already have and told them no arguments. They set up a little fuss, but not much.”
“I’ll go talk to them.”
Johnny sat on one of the twin beds and patiently explained the situation to them. He set the facts out plainly for them. After he had finished, they solemnly nodded their heads.
“We understand, Mr. Johnny,” Rich said. “We’re just afraid that when this is over, you won’t have us back.”
Johnny hugged them both. “Don’t either of you worry about that. You’ll be back. And that’s a promise.”
When he had them and their gear loaded into Blair’s car, he kissed Blair and said, “Don’t try to make it back here tonight. Stay a couple of days and help them get settled in. Don’t you think that’s best?”
“You tryin’ to git shet of me, boy?” Blair corn-poned the question with a grin.
“Get out of here!”
He watched the car until it was out of sight, then went back into the house. It seemed very empty. Skipper and June came out of the kids’ room and whined at him, looking through accusatory eyes at him.
“Yeah, I know,” he said, petting them both. “I’ll miss them too.”
Johnny stood for a moment in the den, hands on hips. Then he walked around his house again, even though he had inspected it just a few hours earlier. Anything to occupy his mind. He took a chance and let Skipper and June accompany him. But he carried a twelve-gauge shotgun and a bandoleer of shells around his shoulder. He did not feel at all foolish. He went back into the house and fixed a sandwich.
Captain Alden and Sheriff Young drove out the middle of the afternoon. Neither man looked at all happy as they took seats in the den.
“So drop the bad news on me,” Johnny called from the kitchen, where he had gone to make a pot of coffee.
“I’m powerless to do anything except obey orders,” Alden said. “And my orders are to patrol this parish and keep people out of that contested tract of land.” Just as Johnny reentered the den, Tom was mumbling a few obscenities under his breath about federal judges and misguided scientists and big business in general.
Johnny had to laugh at the expression on the man’s face. “Oh, hell, Tom. Don’t take it so hard. You didn’t expect anything else, did you?”
“Well, no. I guess not. It’s frustrating, that’s all. We’re sitting on a powder keg here and nobody besides us seems to understand that.”
Phil looked around him. “What happened to Blair and the kids?”
“Gone to Baton Rouge. We both felt it best to get the kids out of harm’s way. I asked Blair to consider staying down there herself for a few days.”
“It’ll surprise me if she does,” Phil said.
“Yeah. Me, too.”
Tom smiled at Johnny. “At least something good came out of this mess . . . you and Blair.”
“For a fact.” Johnny looked out a window. A few more hours until dark. He looked back at the sheriff and the trooper. They were staring at him. “Drop the other shoe, boys.”
Phil shifted in his chair and Captain Alden looked uncomfortable. They glanced at each other. Alden sighed heavily. “You have any stroke left with the government, Johnny?”
“Very little, I’m afraid. Come on, guys. Say it. What’s on your minds?”
“That coffee smells good,” Tom said, getting to his feet. “I’ll pour us some and bring it in. I know how you all take it.” He left the room.
It was a cue. Phil leaned forward. “Whatever you want to do, Johnny, Tom and I will back you just as far as we can. We’ll alibi for you, help you bring in whatever you need . . . we’ll go the limit for you.”
“I’m one man, Phil. What can I do?”
“Do you know where and how to go about getting incendiary devices?”
Johnny hesitated only for a second before nodding his head.
“You’d have to get them on the black market, wouldn’t you?”
Again, Johnny nodded his head, but this time he held up a hand. “Look, Phil. Getting arms and bombs and so forth is not the problem. The problem is this: we’d have to have a delivery system. Bombers or fighter bombers.” He shook his head. “It’s out of the question. It would cost millions.”
Tom reentered the room in time to hear the last. He sat the mugs of coffee down and took a chair just as Phil leaned back and cussed.
“There has to be a way,” Tom said.
“If there is, I sure haven’t come up with it,” Johnny admitted. “Poison is out; it’s been tried in a limited way and the bats ignored the bait. Napalm is the best way; one massive strike. There is no wildlife left in the bats’ territory so that would produce no big cry. Back fires could be set to control the burn. That’s the only solution I can find.”
“And preventing that is big business,” Tom said.
“Yeah, but in a way, you can’t blame them,” Johnny took on the role of devil’s advocate. “That area, hundreds of acres, thousands of acres, would be worthless for a long time after a massive burn.” He leaned back in his chair. “I have an idea, Tom. One you can take to the governor—providing he hasn’t already thought of it and been turned down. Which I expect is the case. The value of the timber has been determined, I’m sure. So have the government buy the timber from this conglomerate and set a fair price for the crops that would have been raised for say, oh, five years to come. See what big business has to say about that.”
Tom was on the phone quickly. Colonel Jarrett called back in less than five minutes.
“No good,” Tom said after hanging up. “The governor had already proposed that. He was turned down. The orders of the federal judges stand. But it is being appealed.”
“That could take weeks, months, or years,” Phil said, a disgusted look on his face. “I never thought I would live to say that it’s time for a citizen’s uprising, that anarchy might be the only act we have left, but I’m saying it now.”
“Oh, that’s coming nationwide, Phil,” Johnny said calmly. “And before this decade is over. I’m rather looking forward to it.” That got him startled glances from both lawmen. “But that’s not solving what we’re facing now.”
“You’re looking forward to it?” Tom questioned.
“Don’t get me started on what’s wrong with this country, Tom. Maybe later. Right now, we’ve got bats to worry about.”
Johnny answered the ringing phone, then handed it to Tom. Tom listened for a moment, spoke softly, then hung up. “We can forget about fire-bombing what we thought was the territory of the bats. They’ve branched out. There are confirmed attacks in all parishes surrounding this one and also across the river. The bats apparently struck early this morning in isolated areas. The bodies, or what was left of them, were discovered just about an hour ago.”
“You don’t think the bats are returning to their sanctuary, Tom?” Phil asked.
The trooper shook his head. “I don’t know what to think. Johnny?”
“I think this parish is still their main roosting place. But just like any well-trained army, they’ve gone on the offensive and are advancing, claiming new territory. Since we’ve gotten cautious, evacuated the elderly and handicapped, and bunkered in, the bats are running out of food in this parish. I’ve been expecting this. But there is something else that has to be considered, too. Other bats of this species may be coming in from other areas.”
“Reinforcements,” Phil said the word
softly.
“Yes.”
“How do they know to come here?”
Johnny shrugged. “I don’t believe it’s by instinct, since no one I’ve spoken with believe this species of bat is native to North America.”
“Then . . . how?” Phil asked.
Again, Johnny shrugged. “Maybe the main body sent scouts out to lead the others in.”
“Are you joking?” Phil asked. “Come on, Johnny. Tell me you’re kidding.”
“No. Not at all.”
“Sure,” Tom said. “Why not? It’s as good an explanation as any. The scientists said these bats have probably been around since the beginnings of time, but in so few numbers they weren’t picked up. Then, for some reason, they had a population explosion, like rabbits and lemmings.”
“And I’ll tell you something else I believe too,” Johnny said, after taking a sip of coffee. “I think those bats out there on that protected acreage know they’re safe there. There is no way I’ll believe they know about the legal wrangling that’s going on—if they were that intelligent the human race would be doomed, not that we don’t deserve to be for the misery we’ve dealt the environment and the wildlife—but these bats have somehow sensed that man cannot enter that area to do them harm.”
“I never figured you for a tree-hugger, Johnny,” Phil said with a smile.
“I’m a moderate on the issue, But it wouldn’t bother me at all to drop about a thousand napalm bombs into that contested area. Not at all. You see, I’m also a realist.”
“I wonder what’s happening in those parishes where the bats have attacked?” Tom mused.
* * *
Sheriffs’ offices and police stations were jammed with frightened residents, all of them loudly demanding that some action be taken to protect them from these killer bats.
“How and with what?” the sheriffs’ said almost in unison although miles apart.
Many sheriffs’ departments throughout the state had been taking a financial beating over the years. Unless they were in heavily populated areas with a good solid tax base, they’d been sinking into a tub of red ink for a long time. Many sheriffs’ departments in rural areas had to reduce personnel and were paying their already overworked deputies just slightly more than minimum wage (thereby forcing the deputies to work two jobs just to survive), driving vehicles that by all rights should have been in a junk yard several years back, did not have bulletproof vests, and in reality were only limping along. In some North Louisiana parishes, many times at night there was only one deputy to patrol over 650 square miles—alone.
Parishes all over the state had tried to pass higher millages to help fund law enforcement. In many cases the already overtaxed voters turned them down. One really could not blame the voters. There is an old saying that people deserve the type of law enforcement they get. That sounds both very apt and slightly smug until some sort of disaster strikes. Then, what are the first words out of the citizens’ mouths?
“Where the hell are the goddamn cops?”
The sheriffs of the newly affected (and about to be infected parishes) smiled sort of a “Revenge-Is-Sweet” smile at the frightened citizens that had jammed into their offices. One said, “What you see is what you get, buddy. I have six deputies, including my Chief Deputy, to work the parish. Out of six cars, two of them won’t run and we can’t afford to have them fixed. Now, just what in the hell would you have us do?”
“Well ...” the citizen stuttered. “Protect us!”
The sheriffs and deputies got a good laugh out of that.
Nine
Johnny was being watched. He could feel it the instant he stepped out onto his front porch that evening. But the bats were smart. They had pulled back deeper into the timber surrounding the cleared and lighted acreage and could not be seen.
“You’ll get me if it’s the last thing you do, huh?” Johnny spoke to the silence. “Well, maybe so. But you’ll have to get smarter than you are to do it.”
The bats could not control their rage and hatred at the sound of his voice. They set up a fearful din in the timber, howling and hissing and shrieking their fury. Johnny laughed at them and that seemed only to make it worse. He flipped the bats the bird and walked back into the house and sat down.
He and Tom and Phil had talked about poisoning the bats. But any poison that would kill the bats would kill humans too. So in the end that had been dismissed. The danger of drift was just too great.
They were back to square one and seemed to be at a dead-end.
A very discouraged and weary governor’s aide had called Tom just before he left Johnny’s house and said the legal wrangling did not look good for the state.
“So what else is new?” Sheriff Phil Young said, just before he started a new round of cussing.
The cussing didn’t help the situation, but it made him feel better.
In the surrounding parishes the night brought on a terror like none had ever experienced. When the horror struck the river parish, only a few in the surrounding parishes had the foresight to think and act on the assumption that the bats might eventually move. The majority, as usual, sat around with their thumbs up their butts and did nothing . . . hoping that somebody else would come along and help them. They had adopted the philosophy that has helped turn America from a first rate nation into second class: Give me something for nothing, I got a right, man.
Now it was too late. The blood-drinking and flesh-eating strain of bats had silently arrived and were feasting.
In the parish directly north of the roosting place of the bats, the weary sheriff gathered his entire force of field deputies, all six of them, two of them driving their personal vehicles, and began mapping out plans on how best to combat the horror that had begun invading their parish.
Down in Baton Rouge, the governor sat in his office and looked at the phone he’d just used in an attempt to call the President of the United States. The President was out of the country, meeting with other heads of state in Europe. He looked into the eyes of his aide, Bobby, sitting a few feet away.
“Order the air national guard up and napalm the hell out of that contested land,” Bobby said.
“I’m ahead of you, Bobby. I spoke with the commander of the air national guard about an hour ago. He doesn’t have the bombs to do it and can’t get them.”
“The goddamn air force is sitting up there at Barksdale!”
“You know perfectly well I have absolutely no power to order them to do anything.”
“I’d like to kill that damn federal judge.”
“There would just be another one to take his place. They’re like coat hangers: They multiply in the dark.”
“What are we going to do?”
“There is nothing we can do,” the governor said softly. “That we haven’t already done. Go home, Bobby. Get something to eat and try to get some rest. That’s what I’m going to try to do.”
When the door had closed behind the aide, the governor unlocked a drawer in his desk and took out a private phone and a slim address book. He punched out a number. It was answered on the third ring.
“I have a bit of a problem here,” the governor said.
“You’ve got more than a bit of a problem. And I’ve been expecting your call. I know what you want and I have the merchandise. But if you ordered your air national guard to make the strike, they’d all be up on federal charges.”
“I have fifteen pilots who say they’ll do it.”
“You really want to take this chance?”
“I don’t see that I have a choice in the matter.”
The man located several states to the east chuckled. “Very well. This one is on the house. Now we’re even, right?”
“Right.”
“Now let’s settle on where to offload these little darlings.”
* * *
Captain Alden woke Johnny at five o’clock the next morning. “Several of us will be out at your house at dawn. What’s coming next should be right up your alley.
I don’t want to say more over the phone.”
“I’ll be right here. But watch out. The bats have my place staked out.”
“Are the bastards getting smarter by the day?”
“I think so. I’ll have coffee ready.”
Johnny listened and was smiling before Tom finished speaking. “That is one ballsy governor.”
“Well,” Phil said. “He just got pushed up against a wall and felt he had no choice in the matter.”
“Now we evacuate?”
“Yes,” Alden said with a broad smile. “We have a couple of old wells in that area that are about to pop. We have to evacuate.”
Only a handful of people knew what was about to take place, and all concerned were determined to keep it that way. Only a few families still remained within a five mile radius of the contested land and they were moved out quietly with absolutely no fuss. Armed men, wearing civilian clothes and saying very little, moved the families out. Those displaced were allowed to take only one suitcase.
“You’ll be back within twenty-four hours,” they were told.
Earth-moving equipment and fire fighters and equipment were quietly mobilized and headed out. One fire truck from this town and one from another. Three from New Orleans, three from Baton Rouge, two from here and two from there. No one noticed. A Texas man who had teams who specialized in fighting oil and gas fires was called. He loved the idea.
“I’ll do this free,” he told Bobby. “And my men have all volunteered their services. I don’t know who you are and I never talked with you. I just happened to be in the area.”
The pilots were all older men with thousands of hours of flying time between them. The strike itself would take only a few moments and they would scatter back to various bases. The skies over the parish had already been declared a no-fly zone so that was no problem. Getting to the parish would be a bit dicey, but jet fighter pilots were used to taking chances and they told the governor not to sweat it. The planes were A-6As, capable of carrying enormous payloads; each plane could carry up to fifteen thousand pounds of bombs. Some of the planes had been “borrowed” from other states.
Bats Page 20
