by Ronald Kelly
Without looking back, Jenny Brice leapt from the spiky cave of the gaping mouth and dodged to the side of the road, letting the dark juggernaut pass as it continued up the mountainside.
Inside the belly of the beast, Jackson Dellhart struggled to no avail. The faceless, formless creatures that held him down had now taken the appearance of those who had died because of his greedy quest for PaleDoveMountain. He writhed and wailed as he stared into their horrible gray faces. The three Stoogeone brothers were there, as well as Colin Wainwright and the unfortunate surveyor, Steve Ratcliff. They were all an extension of the same hideous being, sprouting from the cushiony floor of the bus like pustulant growths with minds of their own. He recoiled from their touch as they crowded around him, their pitch black eyes burning with a hatred that far exceeded any that he could ever conjure from the dark cancer of his own soul. Through the physical manifestation of the Dark'Un, his unwilling victims were back from the realm of the dead, ready to initiate him into the hellish ranks of the damned.
Dellhart slipped his good hand from the grasp of fiendish Skeeter Newland and snaked it into a side pocket of his trousers, searching for his last remaining weapon. A weapon that he had completely forgotten about—until now.
A pair of gray hands grasped his head and he stared toward the gnashing maw of the Dark'Un as the crackling grew louder and he felt the entire structure of the living bus begin to take on an entirely different form. The interior lost its even rows of comfortable seats, the walls growing smooth and pliant. Dark secretions began to seep from the inner tissues, dripping down upon him. The potent juices of the Dark'Un's digestive tract bathed Dellhart's skin, sizzling as they ate away his flesh like sulfuric acid. He began to howl as the fluid covered him, dissolving his clothing, his epidermis, and then the raw red fiber of the muscles and ligaments underneath.
The last thing he saw, before the acid reached his face and reduced his handsome baby blue eyes to useless jelly, was a fleeting glimpse through the closing jaws of the monster. The scenery of the mountainside slipped away and was replaced by the cloudless blue expanse of the Southern sky as the dark creature transformed into some vast black fowl and took to the air.
Laughter blared in his putrefying ears, the mocking laughter of the thing that had cleverly swallowed him moments before. But despite the certainty of agonizing death, Jackson Dellhart found himself joining in the hilarity. His peals of triumphant laughter rang through the innards of the beast as his bony hand discovered the object of its frantic search—the fragmentation grenade that had been concealed in his back pocket. With the last effort of his melting muscles, Dellhart raised the grenade to his exposed teeth and, with a jerk of his skeletal head, pulled the pin free.
He counted off the final seconds, knowing that he had won even in defeat. He would destroy the dreaded and invincible Dark'Un as he had originally vowed, delivering the killing blow from the tender vulnerability hidden within.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
"I'm through screwing around with these guys," Jacobi told the other soldiers who crouched behind the boulders that lined the flowery pathway. The three nodded solemnly, for they had also grown weary of the firefight. He could see that their morale had hit bottom, especially after Quinn had been wasted by the MAC-10 and Weinhold wounded by a potshot from the .357 Magnum. Looking back, he knew the disillusionment had started before those incidents. Throughout their long trek up the mountainside, they had become increasingly aware that they were losing this seemingly simple battle against the inhabitants of PaleDoveMountain. First, they had lost contact with Khiem, Jamal, and Lopez, then witnessed for themselves the hellish assault overhead, a battle of reality versus nightmare that had pitted Skeeter's mercenary squadron of armed choppers against a horrid demon in the image of an F-16 fighter jet.
Now it seemed that they were the last survivors of Frag Hendrix's crack commando unit as well. Thirty minutes had passed since they'd left Red Team at the massive crater in the clearing below. Hendrix and the others should have joined them by now. Checking out a hole in the ground was no big deal—unless the thing inside the pit was still alive. He recalled the distant echo of grenade explosions and the distinctive blast from the LAWS rocket launcher only a short time ago. Such a barrage usually spelled victory, but after the crushing defeat that the other teams had been subjected to, Jacobi had a dismal feeling that his iron-fisted commander had suffered a similar fate.
Well, it isn't going to happen to us, he promised himself. The job is going to get done, one way or another. Careful not to expose himself, he unshouldered his backpack and rummaged through the contents for the materials he would need. He crouched behind the boulder and laid out the makings of a bomb—two rectangular blocks of C-4 explosive, detonation caps, and a small quartz timer. While his men laid down a barrage of suppressing fire, keeping the two in the cave occupied, he took his time and constructed a device that would seal the cave permanently, blocking the inner passageway with solid rock and earth for a good ten meters. He connected the last wire and set the LCD display with a ten-second delay.
"Okay, you guys get ready to move when I throw this baby," he told them. "Thompson, you help Weinhold down the pathway. Baker and I will be right behind you. All right, on the count of three. One…two…" Jacobi stood up, his arm cocked back and ready to hurl the bundle of explosives into the mouth of the cave. "Three!" He activated the timer button with his thumb and then tossed the bomb toward its intended target.
The others were already heading down the flowery trail, putting as much distance between themselves and the point of impact as possible. Jacobi was whirling on his heels, ready to follow them down, when he glanced back to make sure that the cluster of C-4 was heading toward the open hollow. Much to his surprise, it was stopped in midair. He watched as the pale-flowered limb of a dogwood tree snapped out and caught the bomb in its curling branches. Like the lanky arm of a baseball pitcher, it reared back and shot the explosive in the direction from which it came.
Jacobi hit the ground hard as the bomb whistled over his head, as well as those of the retreating soldiers. It landed in the pathway fifteen feet in front of them and detonated a second later. The end of the trail was totally engulfed in a chaotic burst of blinding fire and deadly debris, sending a shuddering quake through the very core of PaleDoveMountain. Thompson and Weinhold were killed instantly, taking the brunt of the explosion and disintegrating amid the rending fire flash. Baker was riddled by a dozen stone projectiles. He fell to his back on the pathway and wailed with the agony of his wounds. Then something totally inexplicable happened, something that Jacobi saw with his own eyes, but could scarcely believe. The white-flowered vegetation on one side of the pathway began to move of its own accord. Pale branches and vines snaked out, wrapping tightly around Baker's convulsing limbs. Kicking and screaming, the soldier was pulled from the smoking pathway and into the savage heart of the living garden. The man vanished from sight, but his shrieks of horror grew in volume and intensity. Abruptly, they faded as the sound of splintering bone and tearing flesh came from the wall of fragrant dogwood and Lily of the Valley.
Jacobi lifted his M-16 and sighted down on the thrashing plant life. But before he could fire, a tendril of pale-leafed honeysuckle lashed out and encircled the barrel of the assault rifle. With a jerk, it tore the weapon from Jacobi's grasp. The gun clattered down the littered pathway and disappeared into the steaming hole made by the explosion.
He could only stand there, frozen to the spot like a panicked rabbit, as the thorny arms of surrounding rose bushes snagged him from all sides, entwining his flailing arms and legs, denying him any chance for escape. A spiky vine wrapped around his throat. Its razored barbs dug deeply, drawing trickles of blood. Slowly, it began to tighten, strangling the breath from his struggling form. As Jacobi began to black out, he saw the single bloom of a pure white rose hover before his purple face. Within the soft petals of the flower, he could make out two tiny pink eyes. They blazed at him not with malice or hatred, but with an emo
tion he could only describe as angry regret. Even as it choked the life from him, Jacobi somehow knew that the pale creature deplored the necessity of its deadly action.
Glen and Rowdy had witnessed the death of Jacobi and his fellow mercenaries from the mouth of the cave. So had Joe Nickles and his group of armed troopers, who had reached the rocky peak just as the explosion went off.
"Well, it looks like the cavalry did show up after all," said Rowdy as the law officers jumped over the smoking crevice and joined them on the other side. "Too late for this fellow, but then I reckon he got what he deserved." They stared down at the twisted form of the mercenary. Jacobi glared up at them with bulging eyes and a dark tongue poking between his teeth, looking like an unruly child throwing a temper tantrum.
Glen reached over and curiously touched one of the rose bushes. The plant recoiled at his touch, then bashfully surrendered to his attention, purring like a contented kitten as the storekeeper's fingers stroked its pale petals.
"What the hell are these things?" asked the bewildered police captain. He recalled the way the rose bush had mercilessly throttled the soldier at their feet. "And why are these guys here? On our way up the mountain we saw some wreckage that looked like military helicopters."
"It's a long story," came the voice of Gart Mayo. They turned to find two albinos carrying the sheriff on the makeshift stretcher. Lance LaBlanc and the others followed. "I'll tell you the whole fantastic story later on. Right now, you'd best find that bastard Dellhart."
"Yes," said Glen. "He's taken Jenny hostage. He might even kill her, if we don't get to them in time."
Before Joe Nickles could question them any further, a muted explosion sounded from behind. They turned their eyes down the steep slope of the mountainside and saw something swooping through the air toward them. It was a huge black bird the size of a small passenger plane. Smoke billowed from its open mouth as it weaved drunkenly over the treetops, trying desperately to keep airborne. But apparently its injuries began to get the better of it. With a long wail of despair, the bird began a steady downward glide and crashed into the heavy forest on the far side of the cratered clearing.
"Let's check it out," suggested Nickles, looking as though he doubted his sanity in view of what he had just seen. Glen and Rowdy helped the others across the hole in the pathway. Then they all accompanied the troopers down the slope.
A few minutes later, they arrived at the forest. The black bird had brought down several large oaks with its mighty fall. It lay within a deathbed of ivy and foliage, thrashing and twitching as the last of its life ebbed away.
"Glen!" called a woman's voice from the edge of the forest.
Glen turned and his heart lightened in relief at the sight of Jenny standing there. He ran to her and her to him. They embraced for a long, quiet moment, simply relishing each other's presence. Then Glen looked into her eyes. "Lordy Mercy, girl, I was afraid I'd never see you again. How did you get away? Where's Dellhart?"
Tears of sorrow appeared in Jenny's eyes as she nodded toward the injured creature. "The Dark'Un took care of him. But it looks like it paid for it with its life."
As they returned to the others, Dale ran up and joined the two, eyeing the dying creature sadly. Alice stood next to Rowdy, watching the passing of a creature the likes of which science had never dreamt of. She held her knapsack tenderly in her arms, as if she were holding an infant.
They all stood in solemn silence and watched as the Dark'Un went through its violent throes of death. It ran a gamut of incredible transformations, changing form and size with blurring speed. Nickles and his men stepped back a few paces in frightened awe, while the others, who had grown accustomed to the bizarre metamorphosis, watched respectfully. In an unnerving crescendo of crackling, the creature reformed, melted, then reformed again, taking on a myriad of strange images—human beings, dinosaurs, common animals, and even odd interpretations of military vehicles. Then, as it turned its black eyes sadly upon the gathering of albinos, it exhaled its last breath and settled into its true size and form—a yard-long centipede, glossy black in color. With a jerking spasm, it curled into a tight ball, then finally grew still.
Reverently, Lance LaBlanc and his pale brethren approached the body of the great protector. Their sorrow came as it would to any soulful creature. Their throats choked with quiet sobs and their pink eyes brimmed with tears.
Alice found herself also weeping as she watched the pale creatures mourn the loss of the Dark'Un. "They have a good reason to grieve," she said. "After all, it's hard to lose a parent."
"Parent?" Jenny looked around at her in surprise. "Do you mean…"
"Yes," said the professor. "The Dark'Un was not a sadistic beast like we first thought. Instead, it was simply a mother protecting its young."
"How do you figure that?" asked Rowdy.
"Dale and I discovered the truth when we explored the lair of the Dark'Un…or more precisely, its nest. These albinos are the children of this dark creature. The same goes for the ones I have right here." She then knelt and opened the top of her knapsack. From within the depths of the backpack scurried dozens of tiny centipede-like creatures as pitch black as their unfortunate parent. "My theory is that the Dark'Un was a hermaphroditic organism, which means that it possessed functional reproductive organs of both sexes, like an earthworm. It probably impregnated itself and gave birth every few thousand years or so. The first litter after its initial release from the tunnel wall consisted solely of parent's offspring, expressing traits of passivity and physical vulnerability that were not dominant in the genetic makeup. The most recent offspring, however, possessed the same characteristics—the same aggressive boldness and exoskeletal protection."
They watched as the multitude of black creatures swarmed across the earth and joined their pale siblings. The familiar sound of crackling erupted as the ground began to swirl with pools of torrid darkness. One by one, the ebony creatures took on the forms of human beings—some duplicating Lance LaBlanc and the other albinos, while some adopted the likenesses of Captain Nickles and his uniformed troopers.
"I'll be damned," was all the police commander could say as he stared at a dark mirror image of himself.
Silently, the children took the body of their parent gently in their hands and began to carry it away from the forest, like solemn pallbearers bearing the casket of a loved one. The strange race of mountain creatures made their way slowly back up the mountainside to the cave at the top of the peak.
"They'll be safe now," said Jenny. "They won't have to worry about progress or greed threatening their paradise ever again. From now on there will be a whole army of Dark'Uns to watch over Pale Dove Mountain…and God help anyone foolish enough to make the same mistake that Jackson Dellhart did."
Chapter Forty
A few hours after his surgery at a Knoxville hospital, Gart Mayo woke up to find Miss Mable sitting next to his bed. "Well, what's the verdict, old woman? Am I still in one piece?"
"You're still the same ornery cuss as before," she assured him with a warm smile. "They dug that chunk of lead outta your belly and set all your broken bones. It's a good thing that you're as tough as a piece of rawhide. If not, you probably wouldn't have made it."
"Hell, I couldn't very well kick the bucket…not when we're on the verge of tying the proverbial knot."
Miss Mable eyed him with a mixture of surprise and delight. "Glory be! I do believe you're proposing marriage to me. Are you sure you didn't get a brain concussion, too, somewhere along the way?'
"My brain's about the only part of my anatomy that didn't get knocked around," Gart said with a wink. "I meant what I said. So, what's your answer?"
"Just point me to the church house, old man, and I'll be waiting for you at the altar." She bent down and planted a kiss on his pale lips, then went out into the hallway to fetch the others.
Jenny, Glen, and Dale came in, followed by Rowdy and Alice. "I hear you're fixing to give me a brand new grandma," smiled Rowdy, shaking Gart'
s hand. "About time you got off your butt and did the sensible thing."
Gart eyed his grandson and the brunette, noticing that they were holding hands. "Looks like ours ain't the only romance that blossomed during this crazy ordeal."
Rowdy smiled affectionately at the lady professor. "Yeah, well, we figured we'd stick together for a while and play it slow, just to see if we can stand each other's company. She's mighty sweet and pretty, but could turn out to be a bit too brainy for my taste. "
Alice gave the lanky singer a playful nudge in the ribs. "And you're just the kind of backwoods redneck I despise. But they say opposites attract, and so far, I tend to agree."
"We thought we'd head to Nashville in a couple of days," Rowdy told them. "Take us a little vacation after all that mind-boggling business on PaleDoveMountain. Besides, I've gotta teach Alice to love country music if she's gonna be my number-one gal. All she listens to now is that classical crap."
"I guess I could learn to love Johnny Cash as much as I do Tchaikovsky. But I don't know if I'd ever be able to stomach your stuff. Don't you sing about anything other than honky-tonk angels and drunken drifters?"
Rowdy pulled her to him and gave her a big hug. "Well, maybe you could give me something else to sing about. I'm mighty low on good love songs lately."
Alice blushed. "Well see what we can do about that."
Miss Mable looked over at where Jenny, Glen, and Dale stood. "And if I ain't mistaken, it seems like I see the makings of a family here, too. What about it? Are ya'll gonna make this string of springtime romances complete?"
Glen looked at Jenny and smiled. "I'm willing to if she is. We both had a rough time there for a while; what with me grieving over Liz and Jenny over the death of her father. But we helped each other through those bad times. I reckon we're deserving of some good times for a change."
"I guess I'm all for it, too," said Jenny, "if Dale doesn't mind the idea."
