by Gina Ranalli
“I need a phone,” the stranger gasped, stumbling forward towards where Stacy sat in one of the booths, a napkin dispenser open before her.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Joe quickly moved out of the kitchen and approached the man, holding out a hand. “You okay, partner? You wreck your car or something?”
The man regarded Joe briefly as if he were an alien, then he blurted out laughter. “Wreck my car?” he brayed. “My fucking car is gone, man. Gone. Swallowed by the fucking devil himself.” He laughed again, lost his balance and probably would have toppled over if Joe hadn’t reached out to steady him.
“He tried to eat me too,” the man continued. “But I got out. Fucking-A, I did. Fuck that shit. I’m not being swallowed alive.”
Joe and Stacy exchanged a glance before Joe said to the man, “Been out partying all night, huh? Well, why don’t you just sit down right here and I’ll get you a cup of coffee. Just brewed it and it’s good and hot. Fix you right up.”
Turning back to Stacy, he said, “Maybe you should get the sheriff on the phone, Stace. Hopefully this guy didn’t plow into anyone else when—”
The stranger pulled himself out of Joe’s grasp. “I didn’t wreck my car and I wasn’t out partying! I’m not drunk!”
Folding his arms across his chest, Joe said, “With all due respect, sir, you just told us the devil swallowed your car. No, maybe you’re not drunk, but either you’re on something or you’re a basket case.” He looked at Stacy, eyebrows raised. She got to her feet and started towards the kitchen area where the phone was.
“The ground opened up, man,” the muddied stranger insisted. “I was barely able to climb out of there! There’s a hole in the road big enough to swallow a fucking house! Didn’t you hear it?”
Joe frowned, glancing at the static on the television.
“I need to use your phone,” the man repeated. “Please! I have to call my wife!”
“Phone’s dead,” Stacy announced, coming back around the counter. “Weird, right?”
The crease between Joe’s brows deepened. “You have your cell phone on ya?”
Stacy shook her head. “It’s in my coat.”
“Try that.”
She huffed. “Joe, you think I have the sheriff’s number on speed dial, for Christ’s sake?”
“We have a phone book in the kitchen somewhere. Look it up!”
Clearly annoyed, Stacy went to do what she was told while Joe continued to study the muddy, bleeding man.
“I need to call my wife,” the stranger repeated.
“You heard her,” Joe said. “The phone’s dead. Don’t you have a cell of your own?”
“It went down with my car, man! What the fuck is wrong with you? Why aren’t you listening to me?”
“Settle down,” Joe told him, his patience waning. “Why don’t you just have a seat and I’ll get you that coffee, okay? And maybe a Band-Aid for your head.”
The man reached up to touch his forehead and looked surprised when his fingers came away bloody.
“What’s your name, partner?” Joe asked.
“John,” he said, dejectedly as he slumped into the nearest booth. “John Ashland.”
“Nice to meet you, John. I’m Joe and that spitfire over there is Stacy.”
As if on cue, Stacy leaned over the counter from the kitchen and said, “Sheriff’s line is busy.”
“What the Christ?” Joe nearly shouted, throwing his hands up in frustration. “What? Is it the goddamn end of the world or what?”
Unintimidated by his outburst, Stacy shrugged. “It’s New Year’s Day, Joe. People have stuff to do.”
“Look at the damn TV,” he barked, gesturing towards it. “What’s up with that?”
“I told you,” Stacy said. “The cable’s probably out.”
“Bullshit.” Joe walked to the door and looked out. “It’s not even windy. The sky is blue.”
“Maybe it got knocked out last night,” Stacy said. “Christ, what’s the big deal?”
But, the truth was that Joe couldn’t really put into words what the big deal was. It was just a nagging sense of unease growing in the pit of his belly. Everything going out of whack at the same time and this John guy showing up, dirty and bleeding and talking nonsense.
Joe turned to face the others again. To John, he asked, “Where did you say your car got...uh...swallowed?”
“I didn’t,” John replied, holding a napkin to his head wound. “But not far from here. Less than a mile, probably.”
Pointing outside, Joe said, “On this road? Right on 99?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“A hole big enough to swallow a house, you said.” He looked at Stacy. “Could have knocked out power lines. Phone lines too, probably.”
Stacy didn’t reply. Instead, she went back to sitting at the counter and lit up another smoke.
“Was anyone else on the road with you when the ground caved in?” Joe asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. It was pretty dead out there.”
“And what about when you were walking here? Did you see anyone?”
“Dude, I was running like the fucking wind. I wasn’t checking out the scenery. The only reason I came in here was because I saw cars in your parking lot and figured you might be open.”
Something thudded into the plate-glass window and the three of them jumped, looking up to see a creature clinging to the glass.
“Fuck!” John shouted, leaping to his feet and back-pedaling away from the front of the diner.
Joe briefly lost the ability to breathe.
The thing outside was clearly an insect—some kind of bee perhaps, but with the hard, black shell of a beetle—but that wasn’t the most alarming thing about it.
What really scared the occupants of the Pinecone Cafe was that the creature was roughly the size of a coffee-table.
CHAPTER 3
Moving across the property was precarious at best, but Rebecca was able to set Lou down and together they stood staring at what had been their home.
The house was destroyed, the east side sunk into the ground up to the bottom of the first floor windows. Looking at it from out here, Rebecca was amazed neither she nor the dog had been injured.
In truth, she was amazed they were even alive.
Just standing nearby made her nervous so she walked to the gravel driveway where her Jeep Cherokee still sat, untouched, at least for the moment.
She didn’t trust that it would remain above ground for much longer though.
“Lou! Come!”
They had to get out of here, find solid ground and then worry about what came next. Was her house insured for such a catastrophe? She had no idea.
In the vehicle, she found the spare key in the visor where it had been since Glen had been alive and started the engine.
She drove, oddly calm, the dog in the passenger seat beside her, realizing that she was most likely in shock, heading for the Days’ home a mile down the road.
They’d only traveled half that distance when she had to hit the brakes, reaching an arm out to steady Lou and keep him from bashing into the dashboard.
A gaping, muddy hole yawned in the middle of the road. Easily big enough to swallow the Jeep and probably a tanker truck as well.
“Jesus.”
She thought there was enough space on the other side of the road and she may have been able to drive around the sinkhole, but she didn’t want to take the chance. If the ground was unsteady…
Just being this close to it made her nervous.
She briefly debated trying to turn around, but there was nowhere to go. Just miles of uninhabited forest lay behind her and for the first time in her adult life, she questioned the wisdom of living out here, so far from civilization.
“Looks like we’re walking, boy.”
She killed the engine and got out, Lou jumping out behind her.
Together, they approached the sinkhole cautiously, taking care to not get too close, and stopping about
five yards short.
Black nose twitching, Lou tried to get closer, but didn’t argue when Rebecca slapped her hip and commanded, “Side!” Obediently, the dog pressed his flank against her leg and ventured no farther.
She surveyed the ragged lip of the hole, trying to determine how soft the ground surrounding it might be. Several seconds passed before she realized she would just have to brave it.
Though she didn’t trust driving around the hole, she knew they had no choice but to walk by it, albeit giving the monster maw a wide berth.
“Come on, Lou,” she said, leading the way.
Despite managing to be several feet from the hole, the weight of their passing still caused mini-mudslides within it and Rebecca hurried by as fast as she could, releasing her pent up breath when they’d finally moved around it.
The sound of distant rumbles caused her to flinch and grit her teeth, while the dog paused to bark.
“Shh!” she scolded. She had the irrational fear that Lou’s barking would cause the ground to open up further, the way a sudden loud noise could supposedly cause an avalanche. “Quiet, Lou!”
It wasn’t until they had left the sinkhole about twenty yards behind them that she felt herself relax a bit. The road ahead was free of any others, at least as far as she could see.
The world around them was strangely silent. No creatures stirred in the forest flanking either side of the road. Not even birds could be heard, despite the reappearance of the sun.
Occasionally, Lou would try to run ahead, as was his usual custom when they went for walks, but each time Rebecca called him back. Not only did she fear for his safety, but she had to admit that having him near was a comfort.
This had been the case since Glen’s death. She’d even taken to allowing the dog to sleep in the same bed as herself, his warm body pressed against hers, soothing her loneliness and allowing her to fall asleep to his soft dog snores. Sometimes she even thought that Lou took an equal amount of comfort from her as well.
Silly notions from the broken heart of a wounded woman, of course, but she supposed that if they helped her get through another night, then what was the harm?
An odd droning sound startled Rebecca from her thoughts and, frowning, she turned back to face the way they’d come.
What she saw caused her jaw to drop and a tiny gasp of wonder escaped her throat.
Beside her, Lou had also turned and immediately began barking at the two huge things buzzing through the air towards them.
It was Lou’s reaction that helped Rebecca realize that she should be more afraid than fascinated.
“Oh my God,” she whispered.
The enormous insects were coming fast, aiming straight for her and the dog.
“Shit!”
She ran for the tree-line, shouting Lou’s name as she went. Together, woman and canine sprinted as fast as feet and paws could carry them, the sound of the drone growing louder with every second.
They hit the woods and kept going, leaping over felled trees and around small boulders, Rebecca not daring a glance back as she used her arms to protect her face from protruding branches.
Not used to running, she mentally cursed herself for not being in better physical condition as her lungs began to burn, but she forced herself onward.
A mere five minutes after entering the forest, she was forced to skid to a stop.
A short distance before them, the forest ended.
Looking straight ahead, then left, then right, she saw there was nothing there. The forest was gone and in its place was a enormous crevasse—a hole that must have been miles wide in every direction.
Rebecca couldn’t have guessed how many miles—her spatial awareness had never been that keen—but she knew it had to be several, at least. She’d seen lakes smaller than this canyon.
The flying monstrosities forgotten, Rebecca stood panting, staring at the new topography of her surroundings. Dozens of one-hundred foot pines still slid down the muddy embankments towards the black bottom of the canyon, along with stones, logs and other wild brush.
Remembering her earlier encounter with what now seemed like a miniscule sinkhole, she dared not get too close to the edge and once again, insisted that Lou remain at her side.
“This is not good, boy,” she whispered, leaning over to stroke the dog’s back.
The canyon was probably a few hundred feet deep but, never particularly fond of heights, Rebecca didn’t care to inspect its depth any more than she could its width.
When her awe had subsided somewhat, she started to turn away, but a peculiar movement on the left wall of the canyon caught her eye.
Squinting, she was able to make out another of those insects clawing its way up the wall, causing minor mud avalanches in its wake. Every few seconds, the thing—was it a bee?—fluttered its wings in an attempt to fly, but the weight of the mud covering it seemed to be hampering its efforts.
Those things must be coming out of the ground, Rebecca thought. Out of the holes.
Further inspection proved her theory a moment later when she saw several other creatures attempting the same maneuver. As she watched, one of the things did manage to free itself and took flight, thankfully buzzing off in the opposite direction of where she stood with her dog.
“We have to get to town,” she muttered. If those things were bees—and they sure as hell looked like they were, though they appeared to have some sort of hard shell-like wings—they were almost certainly dangerous. She supposed anything that large would be dangerous, stinger or not.
She resisted the urge to wonder too much about what they really were, how they came to be or where they were coming from. There would be time for that later, when she was safe.
If you ever get safe.
Debating on her next course of action left her somewhat stymied. It was hard to move when you knew the ground might disappear from under your feet at any second.
Should they continue to travel through the woods or go back to the road? The road would be easier and faster but she was worried about the bee-like creatures. Out there they would be more vulnerable, though in reality, she doubted the forest was much safer, especially with those things making their way out of the newborn canyon.
Sighing, she decided on the road and started back that way, hoping the insects they’d seen had flown along on their merry way to...where?
They were going in the direction of town, same as her.
Rebecca groaned, but what choice did she have? She couldn’t go back to her house and she sure as hell couldn’t stay here. Town was the only place where she might find shelter and, maybe even better, answers.
After walking only a few dozen yards, Lou froze, lowered his head and growled. Rebecca stopped, following his gaze with her own.
Off to the right, maybe twenty feet away, one of the gigantic insects perched on the trunk of a tree about ten feet off the ground. From where she stood, Rebecca could see its antenna twitching and for a moment she feared her bladder would let loose.
Lou growled louder, then barked.
She bit back a scream and crouched beside the dog, grabbing his muzzle in both of her hands.
“Quiet,” she hissed.
The dog thrashed his head back and forth in an attempt to get loose, but Rebecca held tight and gave his head a firm shake. “Quiet!”
After that, Lou stopped struggling but continued to growl deep in his throat.
When she was sure that he wouldn’t bark again, she released his muzzle and took hold of his collar instead, dragging him behind an ancient, moss-covered blue spruce. She stayed crouched low, peering around the tree trunk to get another glimpse at the creature, but by the time she looked, it was already gone.
CHAPTER 4
The tapping/scratching sound of insect feet on the other side of the glass was nearly enough to make Joe shriek like a little girl.
Slowly, he backed up a few steps, nearly colliding with Stacy who had come forward, her nose wrinkled in disgust as she gaped at t
he monster bee.
“What the fuck is that?” she asked, grabbing Joe’s upper arm, a lit cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth.
Joe shook his head, unable to speak.
The thing was crawling around out there, tap, tap, tapping against the window, exploring, so large it blocked the outside view of the world through that particular pane.
Occasionally, it fluttered its black wings without taking off, the way insects will sometimes do.
Stacy released Joe’s arm and moved even closer to the window, her face full of repulsion, but also a kind of childlike wonder.
“Don’t!” Joe clasped her shoulder, halting her progression to the window.
“I need a cell phone!” John screamed from within the kitchen. “Where is the fucking phone?”
The man was clearly on the verge of panic, if not there already, and his voice was nearly as grating as the sound of the insect outside, but he reminded Joe of calling the sheriff, which now seemed more important than ever.
“You said your phone’s in your coat,” he said quietly to Stacy. “Go call the sheriff again, quick.”
Without looking at him, she asked, “What are you gonna do?”
“I’m getting the shotgun.”
They both sprang into action, hurrying away from the front of the diner.
For years, Joe had kept an ancient, double-barreled shotgun in the kitchen. He’d never had to use it before, but it had once belonged to his father, so he kept it clean and in good condition. It was mainly only around for show, though just the employees knew it was there.
The thought of pointing it at anything made his stomach churn, but he pulled it out from behind the dry-goods storage bins and began to rifle through the bins themselves in search of shells. Once located, he loaded up the shotgun, snapped it closed and turned to see John staring at him, wild-eyed.
“You’re gonna kill that thing?” the man asked, pointing towards the dining area. “You should go kill it before it gets inside.”
