by Bryan Dunn
He leaned against the closed door, and still holding his nose, gulped in some fresh air. Directly above him, through a little half-moon cutout over the door, creeper tendrils poured out and sniffed the air.
Behind the outhouse, Josh was preparing to bomb the hill and charge his brother—when a hand clamped down on his shoulder and spun him around.
“How many times do I have to tell you kids to stay-the-hell-away from here!”
“We weren’t doing nothing,” said Josh, trying to pull away.
“Bull.” Karl Eller pointed Josh toward the street, then gave him a kick in the seat of his pants. “If you two little monkeys aren’t off my property in five seconds—I’m gonna stuff both of you down the shithouse.”
Josh ran to the street. When he was a safe distance from the garage, he turned and yelled to his brother. “Come on! Old Man Eller is after us!”
Billy, still plastered against the door, heard his brother, thought about it, then said: “Liar! You’re just trying to trick me.”
At the top of the door a creeper stalk looped from the cutout, and—just before it reached the top of his head—Billy lunged forward and raced after his brother.
The creeper flicked left and right, and finding nothing, retreated up the door and back through the cutout.
Chapter 41
It was twelve noon and a hundred degrees in the shade when the tanker truck ground into town, rumbled past the water tower, and pulled up to Nguyen’s Place in a cloud of diesel smoke and dust.
Inside the diner, Karl was sitting at the counter eating a hamburger and shooting the breeze with Tommy.
Both men turned when the front door banged open and Sam, Laura, Curley, and Kristin entered—all of them looking hot, dusty, and shaken. There was a loud squawk. Then Darwin shot in and swooped up, lighting on a ceiling rafter.
Squawk, squawk, squawk.
“What’s wrong?” Tommy said, coming around the counter. “You guys look terrible.”
“Could I have a glass of water?” Kristin asked, slumping against a barstool.
“Yeah. Sure, sure…” Tommy grabbed a pitcher of ice water, filled a glass, and placed it in front of Kristin. He motioned to Laura with the pitcher. She nodded her head, Yes, she’d love some.
“You guys aren’t going to believe this,” said Sam, stepping up to the counter. “It’s completely crazy.”
“Man-eating plants,” said Curley. “Huge. Like giant octopuses.”
“Bull,” said Karl. “Quit talkin’ out your ass, Curley.”
“It’s true,” said Laura, joining Sam at the counter. “It’s horrible. Unbelievable.”
“Will someone please start making sense?” Tommy asked, plunking glasses down in front of the others and filling them with ice water. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“We need to call the sheriff,” Sam said. “Doc Fletcher and Lester Moon are dead.”
“What?” Tommy said, almost dropping the pitcher. “But how?”
“That crazy experiment of Doc’s.”
“You mean that vine thingy?” Carla asked, stepping out of the kitchen. “The whatchamacallit?”
“The Fletcher Creeper,” said Sam. He reached over and touched Laura’s arm.
“That’s it,” Carla nodded.
“Listen, did Doc give any of you clippings? You know, something for you to plant?”
Chapter 42
Rufus climbed into his battered Dodge, started the engine, gave it a rev, nodded. Sounds good. He dropped it into gear, backed out of Eller’s Garage—and as he passed the outhouse, the radiator blew. Pssshhh!
Rufus stood on the brakes, bringing the car to a stop—then watched as the front of his car morphed into Old Faithful. Geysers of water shot out of the grill and began soaking the outhouse door.
“Well, don’t that take the rag off the bush,” Rufus said, banging on the steering wheel and putting the car into park.
He stared through the windshield and blinked to check his eyes. It looked like the outhouse was moving! No, not moving. Swelling up! Planks began to bow. The siding ballooned like the place was being pumped full of air.
He clicked open his door and was about to get out for a better look—when the outhouse exploded. Siding blew apart. Redwood planks went twisting through the sky. And the outhouse roof was launched straight up, twenty feet in the air.
And in its place, all that was left was a giant, undulating creeper vine.
Rufus sat there with his mouth hanging open and his face white as a ghost. “Jesus H,” he whispered, pressing back in his seat. Within seconds, flesh-ripping creeper arms dropped onto the Dart, thump-thump-thump– raced up the hood—and probed the windshield with boney tips the size of a man’s fingers.
Click, click, click.
“Jesus Holy Christ!” Rufus yelled, slamming his palm into the horn, calling for help.
* * *
Sam was the first out the door, then Karl, with Laura and the others following. They flew off Nguyen’s porch and charged into the street.
“Over at my place!” Karl yelled, hightailing it towards the garage.
“It’s Rufus,” Sam said, right behind him.
They raced up to the Dodge—both of them pulling up short of the car to avoid flashing creeper arms.
“Get me outta here!” Rufus screamed, staring at them through the window. Suddenly overcome with fright and not willing to wait any longer, he cracked his door just as a creeper crashed into it—slamming it shut and throwing him sideways across the seat.
One of the creepers dropped off the windshield, ran down the side of the car, and began to coil around the door handle.
“Don’t open the door! Stay put!” Sam yelled, signaling with his hands. “Hang on Rufus, I’ve got an idea.”
Sam turned to Karl. “We need gasoline, a jar, and a rag.”
“Gasoline?” Karl questioned, giving Sam a concerned look. “Wait a minute… you’re not thinking of a Molotov cocktail?”
“That’s exactly what I’m thinking,” Sam said, as the creeper continued to smother the Dart. “Come on! There’s no time.”
“What can I do?” asked Tommy. Behind him, Laura, Kristin, Carla, and Curley all hung back, keeping a safe distance.
“Wait there.” Sam bolted over to a pile of scrap metal stacked next to the garage, grabbed a four-foot section of pipe, and returned to where Tommy was waiting.
“Here’s the plan. I’m going to chop that creeper off the door—and when it’s clear, you open it and pull Rufus out of there.” Sam looked at Tommy. “Okay?”
Tommy flashed a thumbs-up. “Okay.”
With Tommy in tow, Sam gripped the pipe with both hands and inched toward the car. Just as he raised the pipe, there was a scraping sound as a creeper stalk lifted off the Dart’s roof and swept sideways, narrowly missing both of them.
“Shit!” Sam yelled. Then he lunged forward, slashed down with the pipe, and cleared the creeper from the door handle, giving Tommy just the opening he needed.
Tommy kicked a section of ruined creeper out of the way, leapt forward, yanked the door open, and pulled a shaken and speechless Rufus free of the car.
The three of them scrambled back, putting a safe distance between themselves and the creeper, all of them grateful to be alive.
“You saved my bacon,” Rufus said, looking at Sam and then Tommy.
Then all three of them watched in silence as Rufus’s car was smothered by writhing creeper arms.
* * *
“Here we go, Sam,” Karl said, rejoining the men, a jar of gasoline and a rag in his hands.
“Perfect.”
Sam took the jar, removed the lid, soaked the rag in gasoline—then inserted one end in the jar, screwed the lid back on, and left the tail of the rag hanging out.
“Okay. Something to light it with.”
Karl held up a Bic lighter. “Say the word.”
All heads whipped in the direction of shattering glass. The creeper broke a window and poured
itself inside the Dart.
“I’ve owned that car for forty years. Got a slant six—fantastic engine—and now it’s getting eaten by a plant!”
“Just be glad it’s not you, Rufus.” Karl said.
Sam held up the Molotov cocktail. “Torch it.”
Karl stepped up, flicked the lighter, and the rag burst into flames.
Sam moved forward, planted a foot—and hurled the flaming jar at the center of the seething creeper.
The jar pinwheeled through the air and shattered on the side of the Dart. The gasoline exploded, instantly engulfing the creeper in a hellish orange fireball. Wispy tendrils were vaporized, and undulating creeper stalks collapsed and crumpled like dead spider legs.
The air filled with sounds of snap, crackle, pop as flames burned the creeper to a crisp.
Chapter 43
Twenty minutes later, everyone had gathered inside Nguyen’s Place, all of them crowded around the lunch counter.
Sam placed a bowl on the countertop, filling it partway with water. “Okay, watch this.” He held up a paper bag, reached inside, removed the creeper clipping that Carla had given him, and placed it on the counter next to the bowl.
Everyone stared at the clipping, waiting. At first, nothing happened—the creeper just lay there, dormant, not moving. Then, without warning, it twitched, causing everyone to start with fright and take a step back. Laura gripped Sam’s arm, ready to haul him back. Kristin latched onto Laura and blurted, “Holy shit!”
And just as everyone began to relax, the creeper twitched again. Then like a compass needle pointing north, it swiveled directly towards the bowl!
“I’ll be damned,” said Rufus. “That thing dowses better than I do.”
Karl scoffed. “My hind end dowses better than you do, Rufus.”
Carla cracked up, laughing out loud—then quickly stopped herself by covering her mouth. Darwin, who seemed to have found a new home in the diner’s rafters, joined in with a loud squawk!
“That’s the most amazing example of hydrotropism I’ve ever seen,” said Laura, leaning in for a better look.
The diner suddenly fell silent. All heads swiveled in Laura’s direction, giving her a What did you just say? look.
She glanced up, saw their confused expressions, and said, “What?”
Sam cleared his throat, breaking the awkward silence. He picked up the creeper, holding it between his thumb and forefinger, careful to avoid the thorns. “Now, watch this.” He positioned the creeper over the bowl, opened his fingers, and let the clipping drop into the water.
The results were instantaneous. Astounding. Breathtaking. The moment the vine hit, the bowl began to empty. And as the water was consumed, the creeper exploded with new growth—thick and lush and deadly.
It was like watching time-lapse photography. Wispy tendrils sprouted up, and baby creeper stalks spilled over the bowl’s sides and snaked around, already thirsty for more.
“Wow! It’s the chia pet from hell,” said Carla, her eyes bulging.
Sam continued, “When Doc gave me a clipping, he said the vine was still mutating. From what I can tell, the ability of these things to sense fluids has gone off the chart.”
“Hey, I threw a clipping like that down Karl’s crapper,” said Rufus, scratching his rump.
Karl looked at him and shook his head. “Hell, Rufus, there was a brand new roll of toilet paper hanging on the door.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he said, “I didn’t… you know… use it,” Rufus added, sounding more and more embarrassed.
“Without an available source of water,” said Sam, cutting off Rufus and Karl, “the thing is mostly harmless. The creepers at Doc’s, Lester’s, and my place are contained… at least for now.”
“There is nothing harmless about that thing,” Rufus said, thinking about his car.
“Excuse me.” All turned in Kristin’s direction. “What if it rains?”
Holy shit.
Her comment hung there, filling the room with dread.
Rufus laughed, but there was a nervous edge to it. “Well, honey, that would sure be a concern someplace else—but this is Furnace Valley. Our annual rainfall can hardly be measured.”
“I hope you’re right,” said Laura, staring at the alien-looking clipping. “Because if just one of these things finds an unlimited supply of water—it could devastate the entire state, maybe the country.”
Tommy placed a protective arm over Carla’s shoulders. “But that can’t happen, right?”
“No. Not if we keep it together,” said Sam, reassuring the group. “Listen, if any more clippings turn up—bring them here to Nguyen’s, and one of us will destroy them.”
“And for God’s sake, keep them away from water,” Laura added.
“Or Karl’s crapper,” Rufus chortled.
Chapter 44
The first stars appeared in the dying twilight above Big Caliente Hot Springs as the skies darkened over Furnace Valley.
Steam rose from a large spring-fed pool, the mineral-rich, hundred-degree water filling the air with the pungent smell of sulfur.
Next to the pool, a mesquite wood fire crackled and popped, the dense logs shooting jets of orange flames into the night sky. And next to that, Donnie and Spider lay passed out in a litter of empty beer cans.
On the other the other side of the pool—as far from Donnie and Spider as possible—Lander and Maya stood in a circle of candles arranged on a slab of sandstone that jutted over the water. Golf ball-sized crystals hung from their necks, and both of them wore Puck-style crowns fashioned from twigs of sage.
Lander clapped. Then both of them put their hands together and bowed their heads.
“Mind. Body. Spirit,” Lander said, in an earnest, guru-like voice. “See with the inner eye. Listen with the heart.”
He clapped again. “Air I am, fire I am, water, Earth, and Spirit I am. The circle shapes us, body and mind, heart and soul are one.”
“Repeat after me… “We are one with the infinite sun, for ever and ever and ever.”
Together they began to chant, “We are one with the infinite sun, for ever and ever and ever… we are one with the infinite sun, for ever and ever and ever…” Their flat, monotone voices ran together, creating a buzzing sound that drifted into the desert night.
After about two minutes of that, Lander clapped again. Both of them stopped chanting. Then they raised their heads, taking in deep breaths to center themselves.
“My guide, the great Xander, says that with discipline and focus it is possible to attain complete consciousness. Earthly needs for sleep and food will cease. And we will be nothing but light.”
Lander clapped again. Then, in reverential voices, they said, “Gaia carry us home. Gaia be praised.”
Maya went to Lander and gave him a hug. She looked up at the sky. “I love it out here. We should come more often.”
“It’s cool,” Lander said. “Very spiritual.”
Lander stepped off the rock, careful to avoid the ring of candles. He lifted a kettle off a camp stove, filled two mugs with tea, handed one to Maya, then waved his cup beneath his nose, inhaled deeply and took a sip.
“Mmm, what is it?” she asked, tipping the mug.
“Bedtime.”
Maya laughed. “You mean, Sleepytime.”
“Oh… yeah, Sleepytime.”
“Bedtime sounds good, too,” Maya giggled.
“Yeah, it does,” he said, letting his eyes trace the length of her body.
Lander took another sip of tea, swirled it in his mouth. Then he reached into a leather pouch slung at his side, removed a sprig of sage, and crumbled it into his tea. He was about to taste it when he stopped and reached back into his pouch, removing the creeper clipping he’d bought off Tommy.
He stared at it for a moment, thinking to himself, Did that thing just move? Then he shook his head, pinched it in half, and was about to drop it in his tea—when Donnie emerged from his stupor, grabbed a bong, filled it with
Humboldt’s finest, and held it up in Lander’s direction.
“Hey, douche bag. Want a hit?”
Ignoring him, Lander waded into the pool. He dropped the clipping in his tea, took a sip, then tilted the mug and drained it—and just before it was empty, he felt something slither down his throat! Lander jerked the mug away from his mouth and looked inside. The sage was there, but creeper clipping was gone. Lander stared at the bottom of the mug, then shrugged and said to himself, I must have swallowed it by mistake. And then he thought, But it didn’t feel like a mistake… it felt like it slithered down!
Lander shook the creepy feeling off, cleared his throat, and took a few more steps into waist-deep water when he suddenly clutched his chest—and, unable to speak, yelled, “Aaaarrrghh!”
“Lander!” Maya called. “What is it? Are you having an epiphany?”
Choking and grabbing his throat, Lander tried to say something, but all that came out was, “Mmummphf… Aaaarrrghh… Ummph…”
He suddenly straightened. Then he arched his back—and, like a replay of that scene from Alien—his ribcage split apart, and a fist of baby creepers thrust out of his chest, whipped back and forth, then plunged their tips into the water, and began to drink.
Lander’s eyes bulged. Tendrils poured out of his ears. His tongue swelled, then exploded with thorns like an overripe prickly pear. A moment after that, there was a loud bang! His skullcap popped, and his head was suddenly covered by a freakish halo of medusa-like tendrils.
Maya screamed and backed away in shock.
“Fuck me!” Spider yelled, as he and Donnie scrambled to their feet.
“Help him!” Maya pleaded, waving for Donnie and Spider to do something.
Donnie just stood there, frozen, staring slack-jawed at the sight of Lander turning into a bush. Spider lurched forward, ran into the water, and stopped, realizing Lander was already way beyond help.
And then, before Spider knew what was happening, he was hauled off his feet and dragged beneath the surface, a submerged creeper wrapping around his ankle.
