Mojave Green

by The Brothers Washburn

  A rustling noise came from behind Lenny as a wave-like motion moved through the tall grass. “Man, the birds are getting restless,” Cal said as he continued watching the spectacular show in the sky. “Looks like that big thunderstorm is coming our way.”

  Large cumulonimbus clouds were rolling into the valley, the underbelly of the clouds turning dark. Further up the valley, Cal saw it was raining, a summer thunderstorm. He could smell rain on the wind, but it was dry where they were.

  The setting sun turned the clouds crimson. Cal loved a desert sunset. A cool breeze blew, bringing the promise of stronger winds. Somewhere in the distance, a faint clap of thunder sounded. Cal guessed the storm was moving in their direction.

  He thought he probably should stand up and look for high ground away from the stream bed, but the storm didn’t seem to be moving very fast. Right now, it felt good to simply lean back and not be hungry. Putting his hands behind his head, he stretched his feet out toward the fire.

  The grasses rustled again, like a fire hose being dragged along the ground. Cal thought, That doesn’t sound like birds. He had been assuming all the local wildlife was birds.

  The boys had followed a game trail up through the Argus Mountains in the general direction they had seen the hawk flying with the jackrabbit. On the west side of the mountains, they entered into what would have been the China Lake Naval Bombing Range, back on their world. In this world, they discovered a long green valley with a small, but active, stream of water. The stream had cut a deep ravine through the bottom of the valley. Inside the valley were all kinds of large trees and bushes, flowering plants, and other lush vegetation. It was paradise.

  While exploring the area, they had run across a large bird, similar to a wild grouse hen, but the size of a tom turkey. Fortunately for them, it was flightless. A little chasing and running around had confused all three of them. Eventually, the bird ran directly at Cal while trying to get away from Lenny. With one shot, which Cal admitted to himself was more luck than skill, he had dropped the bird dead in its tracks.

  A quick fire and a makeshift rotisserie had given the boys their first real meal since they had crossed over to this strange alien world. With a full belly, Cal stopped to consider his life in the long run. For the first time, he decided it would be possible to survive in this world if they couldn’t find a way back. He also realized that while he could live very comfortably in this world without K’tlynn, he would be just surviving without Camm.

  With plenty of food and water in the valley, he thought they should camp there until it was time to try the crossover again back at the mansion. The valley was certainly more pleasant than the bleak mansion, but without Camm, there would be nothing in this world for Cal no matter where he might choose to camp.

  If . . . when he got back home, Cal was going to make some changes in his life.

  Lost in his own thoughts, Lenny hadn’t said anything, but suddenly, he raised himself up on one elbow and peered behind him into the obscure windblown grasses. After a moment, he shrugged his shoulders and resettled closer to the fire.

  Twilight was upon them and night was close behind. Cal threw more wood on the fire. They planned to spend at least one night here, so they would have time to do more hunting. When they did travel back to the mansion, they wanted to take a large supply of meat with them. Cal’s dad had taught him about preserving meat with salt. Searles Valley had plenty of salt. In addition, Cal thought he might be able to collect some edible vegetation. At least, they would not have to starve to death.

  What is that noise?

  The mysterious noise started to bother Cal. He picked up a big rock and tossed it at the rustling sounds in the grass. It hit something with a heavy thud. A loud hiss came in reply, like air leaking from a punctured tire. Lenny’s head jerked up, and Cal’s blood froze.

  “It’s a good thing you had them wait, though I think fifty-seven hours is a bit excessive.”

  Agent Allen rubbed the back of her neck. She hated being cramped together in the narrow space at the bottom of the circular stone stairs. Agent Kline took up most of the space because of his size. Mr. C stood directly behind her. All were staring at the monstrous green rat.

  The giant rat, its filthy green fur matted and wet, paced restlessly back and forth in its little cell. The Plexiglas shield, by itself, no longer seemed adequate.

  The manacle that had been chained to the rat’s rear leg had come off.

  “The rat is phased with the mansion,” Mr. C explained. “When the mansion moves back and forth between our dimensional plane and the other plane, the rat moves with the phasing. When the boys started their clock mechanism, they triggered a phase cycle. Even though the mansion didn’t complete the pass-through, it phased enough to allow the rat to move outside the grip of that manacle. This happened once before, when we were experimenting with the clock on our side, but at that time, the rat was too weak to be a threat. That’s no longer true.

  “We are fortunate the rat didn’t make it to the other side of this Plexiglas. You see, there is no Plexiglas protector in the other dimensional plane.”

  Mr. C patted the Plexiglas with his hand. “If the rat had caught the phase at just the right moment, it could have moved out of its cell while in the other dimensional plane. Then when it came back to our plane with the end of the phase shift, it would be on this side of the Plexiglas.”

  Agent Allen shook her head. If only she had studied harder in her college physics class, she might understand better what Mr. C was talking about. She looked at Agent Kline, who had a look of disbelief painted on his face. She hoped it was because he was amazed at what they were learning, and not because he didn’t understand. She had come to trust him more than any of the other agents. She really hoped he understood what was going on.

  “We cannot try bringing those boys back until we have secured the rat,” Mr. C explained. “We will need something more than just that chain.” Agent Allen understood why the rat had to be secured—anyone could see why just by looking at it. She sighed.

  “Why not kill it?” That clearly seemed the best answer to her.

  Agent Kline added, “Or at least tranquilize it?”

  Now it was Mr. C’s turn to sigh. “It is not that easy. It’s not a life-form like here on earth. Come upstairs where we can breathe more freely. I will try to explain.”

  As they trudged up the stairs, the creature shut down all the lights again. Feeling her way along the wall in the dark, Agent Allen called out, “Will those boys be safe over there, wherever they are, until we can bring them back to this world.”

  “It is not safe over there,” Mr. C replied matter-of-factly. “With the few records we do have, we know of some who went over and never came back. They were heavily armed, highly trained soldiers. We’re not sure what happened to them. The record doesn’t say.

  “Let’s hope the boys stay in that mansion on their side, with the doors all locked. The farther from the mansion they stray, the more dangerous it will be for them in that other world.”

  Cal grabbed a burning branch, long and thick, from the fire and wound his shirt around the end that was burning. With this improvised torch, he and Lenny took off down the narrow game trail, heading out of the small canyon valley, back toward that world’s version of Searles Valley. The sun had set; the moon was blocked by growing cloud cover; and the going was dark and difficult. True, they had found flashlights in the paramilitary backpacks, but the batteries were old and corroded. They did not work.

  As the trail grew steeper, small rocks from behind came bouncing past them. Cal glanced over his shoulder. No doubt about it, they were being pursued. He could not see their pursuers yet, but he had a good idea what was making the loud hissing noises.

  Lightning lit the night sky behind them, and a cold rush of wind caught them from the same direction. The smell of ozone and moisture was thick. It was raining somewhere, not far away. The trail steepened even more. They slipped and slid, sometimes on their feet, s
ometimes on their butts. The torch did not provide enough illumination to light their way clearly. A constant wind twisted and turned the flames, never allowing the conflagration to burn brightly.

  They reached a small, but relatively flat spot in the trail. Lenny reached over and grabbed Cal by the arm, stopping him. With a hand on his side, Lenny bent down and gasped, “Just a second, dude. I have to rest a minute or I will puke.”

  As he spoke, the night lit up blue-white bright. The lightning was so close, Cal heard it sizzle. Its shock wave hit him in the chest. The crack of thunder startled them both. The lightning had been so bright, he was blind in the returning darkness. It took a second for his eyes to readjust to the dim light of the torch.

  Regaining his equilibrium, Cal cast a wary eye up the trail. “I don’t think we have a minute.” From beyond the shallow reach of their torchlight, more rocks rolled down the hill toward them. “Something big is following us.”

  They turned their attention from uphill to continue down the path, only to stop dead in their tracks. Something was now in front of them. Their pursuer was a snake. Not the giant Mojave Green that had chased them across the desert. Not that big, but large enough.

  The snake faced them with its ever-probing tongue sampling the air. The length of the coiled snake was hard to guess, but the diameter was eight to ten inches. There were no rattles on its flickering tail. Cal knew what it was—a sidewinder. The biggest sidewinder he had ever seen.

  More rocks, a lot more rocks, came bouncing down the hill from above. There must be more snakes up there. Too late, Cal realized they were surrounded. Considering how big the Mojave Green was, these sidewinders could just be babies. Cal knew if they were truly baby snakes, there might be dozens of them, hunting together.

  As Agent Allen climbed the stairs in the dark, she could hear Agent Kline and Mr. C ahead of her, shuffling up the stairs like blind men. She was starting to get tired of always climbing back up the narrow stone passageway in the pitch black.

  “Hey, Mr. C, or whatever your name is, why can’t you do something about these lights?”

  She was annoyed at the incompetence of Swift Creek. Surely, they could do something about that rat’s creepy ability to suppress light.

  Before Mr. C could answer, there came a loud thud, like a side of beef being dropped from several stories high. Agent Allen knew immediately what was happening. Ice water seemed to run down her spine and into her legs. All she could say was, “C, what the . . .”

  Before she could finish, there was another booming thud.

  Mr. C produced a small flashlight from his pocket. “Hurry!” he exclaimed. “It’s trying to escape! Without the chain on its leg, I don’t know if the shield will hold.”

  Mr. C led the way up the narrow spiraling stairs, the light from his flashlight barely visible to Agent Allen. For an old white-haired man, he was moving fairly quickly, but not nearly fast enough for Agent Allen. Between her and Mr. C was Agent Kline, his enormous frame filling the circumference of the stairway. Agent Allen could not see around him.

  Another crashing thud boomed up the stairway. Agent Allen imagined the nauseous-colored rat throwing its huge bulk against the Plexiglas, trying to break free. She tried to hurry Agent Kline, pushing against his posterior with both hands.

  “Hey, hey,” he protested. “Watch the hands. Mr. C, sir, let’s speed it up!”

  Before Mr. C could respond, there was another thud and a cracking, scraping noise along with it. The Plexiglas was breaking free of its mooring and coming loose.

  Mr. C hurried his pace to a fast hobble. Another thud, more scraping, and the squeaky sound of claws against the hard plastic-like surface came from below. The rat was squeezing past its prison door.

  Agent Allen pulled out her Glock. “I’ll hold it off,” she said louder than she intended to Agent Kline. “You get Mr. C upstairs.”

  “No! No!” Mr. C protested. He was huffing and out of breath. “Your gun won’t stop it. We have to beat it to the top and secure the stone door behind us.”

  Agent Kline was right on top of Mr. C, but there was no room to move past him. Agent Kline bellowed, “You have to move faster. We have to go faster.”

  “I’m trying, I’m trying . . .”

  Before Mr. C could say anything else, Agent Kline grabbed him with both hands from the back. One hand held the collars of his shirt and coat. The other gripped the waistband and belt of his pants. Picking him bodily off the stairs, holding him out in front, Agent Kline ran up the stairs with Agent Allen running directly behind.

  Held like a marionette, Mr. C tried to scramble the best he could, his feet barely touching the stone steps. His flashlight provided only minimal light, but enough for Agent Kline to avoid banging Mr. C into the stone walls.

  Even though they were running, the stairs seemed to go on and on, twisting and turning. Agent Allen expected to see the doorway leading into the cellar at each turn, but it never came.

  The scratching, scraping noise had stopped. Agent Allen imagined the rat must be beyond the Plexiglas and was now bounding up the stairs. In her mind’s eye, she could see it leaping up the steps, taking a half-dozen stairs in a single jump. It was not lost on her that she would be the first person the rat came to. The first one it would kill and eat.

  She would not go without a fight. Glancing over her shoulder, she thought that even if she couldn’t kill it, she would fill it with lead. She decided to shoot for its face and eyes.

  Still no doorway, no end to the stairs. With that thought, the flashlight Mr. C was holding went black, and the sulfuric, stinking smell of rotting road kill became overpowering. They were in total darkness, and the rat was catching up.

  XXI

  Cal heard movement through the rocks and brush on both his left and right. It was hard to guess how many snakes were gathering. He and Lenny had to get down the trail, and they had to do it in a hurry, a freaking big hurry. That meant getting past the sidewinder coiled in the middle of the trail, threatening to strike at any second.

  At that instant, another lightning bolt flashed with blinding, searing light. In that flash, the entire area around them became visible. The intensity of the flash washed the color out of everything, like an overexposed black-and-white photograph. It was only an instant of light, but long enough for Cal to make out at least four other snakes around them. All were about the same size as the one curled in front of them. All were sidewinders.

  As a last-ditch defense, he would use his .357, but he didn’t have a lot of confidence in the stopping power of his pistol. Neither the giant rat nor the Mojave Green had been slowed by firearms. To the contrary, the bullet wounds had made them more angry and aggressive.

  The last thing Cal wanted to do was to waste all of his ammo making a whole family of sidewinders more aggressive. He wanted to save as much ammo as possible for future hunting expeditions, if necessary.

  Plan A was to slip away without inciting a bunch of angry sidewinders to chase after them. If that failed, Plan B was to shoot as many as possible. He didn’t know how many of the giant sidewinders he could actually kill before one filled him full of venom. Hopefully, he could slow them down enough to give Lenny a chance to escape while the snakes were swarming Cal.

  “We have to move, man. Stay with me. Get ready to run!”

  Lenny nodded his head and moved closer to Cal.

  Cal stepped forward and jammed the makeshift torch at the coiled snake’s head. It pulled back and hissed loudly. Stretching out his arm, Cal kept the smoldering torch directly in front of the snake’s eyes, while he moved to the left, pulling Lenny along with him.

  With a movement too quick to see, the snake struck at the torch’s flame, hitting the torch, but missing Cal. Holding the torch tightly, Cal pushed it closer to the snake’s head. As the snake’s beady eyes followed the torch, it drew back, sliding out of its coiled formation.

  Without hesitation, Cal and Lenny raced around the snake and galloped down the rocky hillside. S
oon, another flash of lightning showed snakes on both sides, moving with them down the game trail. In spite of the momentary blindness caused by the flashing lightning strikes, they ran headlong downward. Thunder boomed like deep detonations directly overhead.

  Cal’s foot caught on a stone. As he fell straight forward, he tucked his naked torso with his head curled down. Without losing grip of the torch, he rolled once and popped back up onto his feet, hardly missing a step. Lenny was still right behind him.

  The clouds opened a hole, releasing a shaft of moonlight on the panicked race. In the dim light, it was easier to see their way and easier to see their predators. There were at least a half dozen moving with them down the hill, matching their pace. The snakes moved in that queer sideways motion unique to their species. With heads about four feet off the ground and tongues slipping in and out, their dead, unblinking eyes seemed to follow their intended prey.

  With snakes on both sides, Cal felt they were being herded down the hill, but down to what? A trap? Just as quickly as the moonlight had appeared, it disappeared. Now the only illumination was the almost nonexistent torch light.

  The hair on the back of Cal’s neck stood straight up while a tingling sensation coursed down his arms and legs. He had a premonition that something was about to happen.

  Another ferocious strike of lightning exploded into the ground just yards to his left. It was an electric explosion. Bushes burst into flames. Searing hot sparks of red, white, and green erupted into the air, showering down on both Cal and Lenny.

  Lenny yelled, “Dude!” and jumped aside, away from the sparks, but directly into Cal. Both tumbled to the ground, rolling and sliding over rocks and bushes.

  They stopped, sprawled along the trail. Cal still held his torch, but it was extinguished. Gasping for breath, neither moved. They heard hissing on all sides. They were surrounded.