Natural Selection

by Dave Freedman

  Nothing followed them. The creature was already somewhere else.

  GLIDING BELOW the treetops in another part of the forest, the Demonray felt better. There was no hot air here, nor strange smells. Just redwoods, green foliage, and soil.

  But then, as it continued, the predator detected the heat again. Only now, it was coming from another direction. In fact, the heat seemed to be coming from all sides.

  MONITORING ANOTHER blaze from Redwood Inlet’s embankment, Jason, Lisa, and Darryl watched the flames burn higher, already several stories up and hot as all hell.

  Suddenly they noticed movement on the ground. Three dozen squirrels skittered out of the forest and down the embankment.

  Jason’s eyes narrowed, watching the rodents go. “This might actually work.”

  Lisa nodded. “It really might.”

  Darryl said nothing. But as Jason glanced at him, he saw he was watching the squirrels too. And he was smiling.

  CHAPTER 84

  “YOU GUYS see anything over there, Craig?” At the controls of the huge Vertol, Darryl waited a moment when his headset crackled a response.

  “Nothing at all here.”

  Darryl turned to Jason, next to him in the passenger seat. “They got nothing too.”

  Jason eyed the yellow Sikorsky, about a quarter of a mile away. “Should we spread out to cover more area?”

  Darryl looked down at the massive plumes of black smoke wafting up from the treetops a thousand feet below. “We’re fine here. That thing will come out sooner or later.”

  Jason suddenly jerked his head down. “Did you see that, Darryl?”

  Darryl was stunned. “Yeah, I did.”

  Lisa jolted forward from the bench in back. “Where is it?”

  Jason pointed. “Right there.” It was the area between two of the tallest treetops, a few soccer fields apart and belching big puffs of black smoke. “It just popped up then zoomed right back in.”

  “Craig.” Darryl adjusted his headset. “Did you guys see that over there?”

  Craig and Phil were still leaning forward in their seats, staring at the same smoke-filled gap. “Do we go down after it or keep waiting?”

  “Ask Phil how hot it is down there.”

  Craig relayed to his passenger. “How hot is it?”

  Martino pulled some binoculars to his face. “Well . . . It looks like all the flames have burned themselves out by now, so it’s probably just really cooking down there.”

  “What temperature?”

  “A hundred fifty, maybe a hundred sixty degrees.”

  “Jesus Christ. Darryl, it could be as hot as a hundred and sixty degrees down there.”

  Darryl turned to Jason. “Up to a hundred and sixty degrees.”

  “Wow.” Jason eyed the smoldering treetops. “I can’t imagine it surviving that.”

  “Want to take a look and make sure?”

  Jason looked down again. “Let’s let it fry a little. If it doesn’t come back out in thirty minutes, we’ll go down after it.”

  THIRTY MINUTES later, the creature hadn’t returned. There was just thick black smoke—everywhere, the clouds now so big that they were even larger than the trees.

  Jason exhaled then turned to Darryl. “Let’s get down there.”

  Darryl fingered a lever with his left hand and the jungle-green bird descended, dropping toward a gap in the trees the size of a college football stadium. Suddenly black smoke was swirling everywhere. It was impossible to see, but Darryl Hollis didn’t blink. He descended through the blackness when the smoke abruptly cleared and they entered an eerie, charred world.

  Seconds after the Vertol landed, Craig touched down in the Sikorsky. “Thanks a lot, Craig,” Phil said happily.

  Summers was stone. “No problem.”

  Phil yanked open the door, and suddenly the pilot felt like he might faint. He’d never felt such heat in his entire life. It was absolutely overwhelming. The door closed, and the Sikorsky immediately began rising. While the others searched the forest Craig would stand watch above. As he ascended back into the smoke his last sight was of the four of them sprinting into the superheated smoldering lair. He wondered what they’d find.

  CHAPTER 85

  EVERYTHING WAS black. The redwoods. The plants. The soil. Even the air. What had once been lively green ferns and big-leafed rhododendrons were now crumpled black skeletons and piles of soot. The redwoods were singed with forty-foot-high black streaks that smelled like charcoal.

  And then there was the heat. The heat was fantastic, unlike anything any of them had ever experienced before, hotter than wearing a ski jacket in a sauna. The heat was just phenomenal.

  Dripping sweat, Darryl ignored the temperature and ran right into the superheated gloom, his big bow slung over his shoulder.

  “Form a circle.”

  They did, then slowly walked forward. The entire forest seemed to be smoldering.

  At the rear of the circle, Jason saw there wasn’t any fog at all in the treetops, just wispy black smoke and pieces of blue sky. His view leveled. If the predator was still alive, it would have no place to hide here. So where would it be? On the ground? Or up high, where it was cooler? He followed a massive black trunk into the air and realized the Demonray would blend in perfectly with the tree’s new color. He saw nothing unusual. His gaze leveled, sweat pouring down with every step.

  After fifteen minutes, they reached the base of a steep hill, its incline like that of a staircase. The hill was filled with more of the same—charcoal-streaked redwoods, twisted plant skeletons, and smoldering superheated black air. Darryl led them up. “Stay alert here.”

  Ten minutes later, they reached the top, and Jason felt like he was going to collapse. The heat was just stifling. But he knew as hot as it was for him, it was even hotter for the thick-skinned creature. He looked skyward, the cocktail of black smoke and streaky sunlight searing his eyes. The animal had to be up high. But he didn’t see anything unusual, just more streaked trunks and dulled rays of blackened sunshine.

  “Anybody notice anything different here?” Darryl asked.

  Bathed in sweat and miserable, Lisa turned. “Like what?”

  “Like a temperature change.” Darryl studied the smoldering surroundings suspiciously. “It’s a little cooler here. You feel it, Jason?”

  “No.”

  “Phil?”

  “No, but I saw in a file that this is one of the coolest spots in the forest.”

  “Is that right?”

  Phil nodded. “Apparently there’s a natural draft from the ocean.”

  Darryl eyed a distant pile of debris directly ahead. “Jason.”

  “Yeah.”

  “How well does this thing sense temperature gradients?”

  “Possibly very well.”

  Darryl walked forward, stopping abruptly after a hundred feet. “Anybody smell something?”

  Lisa wiped her forehead. “Like what?”

  “Jesus. Like that.” It was right on the blackened soil, a carpet of black skin the size of a pool cover, spread out in uneven folds.

  Jason crouched to touch it. He couldn’t believe it. He could barely lift it. It was thicker than his wrist, and it was only skin. And hot as hell, like burning rubber. He let go to avoid burning his hand.

  “Shedding its skin like a goddamn snake.” Darryl looked around. “Think it’s still alive now, Jason?”

  “I’m starting to wonder.”

  Darryl turned back to the massive pile he’d been eyeing earlier, still directly ahead. “Get back in the circle.”

  They walked forward, and Darryl just stared at the pile. There was something unusual about it. Since they’d been here, he’d seen hundreds of such piles, most just burned plant skeletons fallen on top of one another, a fern here, a rhododendron there, usually collapsed and strangely shaped.

  But this pile was different. It didn’t look like burned plants—not exactly. The top portion did, with bent and twisted forms that allowed Darryl
to see the sun-dappled smoke rising on the other side of it. But the middle and lower portions looked solid. Was something else there? Darryl wasn’t sure. He walked toward it.

  THE HEAT was excruciating, unbearable, unfathomable. The predator couldn’t take it anymore. And yet it had to. The prey was very close now. Like the rest of its body, its eyes were covered by the scorching pile of debris it had plunged into. It couldn’t see them but it knew they were coming closer.

  It remained perfectly still.

  Then something moved. A tiny patch of black soot covering the predator’s closed right eye had just fallen. The animal could see them now. It just had to open its eye.

  MOVEMENT. DARRYL Hollis didn’t know what had moved, but something. Walking closer, he stared at the spot. It was low on the pile, maybe two feet off the dirt. He thought a loose piece of debris had fallen, nothing else. But he stared at the spot anyway. And then he noticed it.

  A reflection.

  From a tiny pool of darkness.

  He froze.

  He was looking right into a large black eye.

  BEFORE LISA knew what had happened, Darryl fired eight arrows straight into the pile. Instantaneously, the entire pile moved. Suddenly streams of black ash and twisted plants were flying everywhere, and a massive leathery white underbelly coiled upward. Darryl fired five times, the arrows plunging into the white like forks into a fillet. . . .

  The animal didn’t seem to feel them, bodily throwing itself into the air. Wings pumping frantically, it rose fast on the diagonal, away from Darryl.

  He sprinted after it. It ascended immediately, climbing nearly straight up.

  He fired four times. The arrows tore through the sun-dappled blackness like torpedoes, heading straight for it. All four plunged into its back. They had no effect. The pumping form rushed higher. And then Darryl realized where it was going. To the sky and then . . .

  He reacted like lightning, sprinting back in the direction they’d just come from. “Come on! Come on! Come on. . . .”

  Suddenly they were tearing through the smoldering landscape. They had to get into the air to help Craig.

  If they didn’t, the creature could fly anywhere. They ran as fast as they possibly could.

  CHAPTER 86

  CRAIG SUMMERS yawned in the Sikorsky. He’d been tensed up and ready to go earlier, but as time had dragged on, his adrenaline had waned. He was exhausted from looking at black smoke. The clouds had grown considerably bigger—thicker, too—and staring into them as much as he had, his eyes hurt. His yellow chopper was facing the ocean, positioned to physically block the creature from flying inland if it actually appeared. He drummed his fingers. Nobody had called to let him know what was going on. Where the hell were they?

  Suddenly he saw something within the blackness. Deep within it. He leaned forward. He wasn’t sure, but something appeared to be heading toward him. What is that? Then, very slowly, it came into shape. It was the size of a small airplane, but alive. A pumping vision. A monster.

  “My God.”

  The smoke cleared, and the predator emerged fully into the blue. It was moving fantastically fast, a flying roller coaster heading straight for Craig.

  Mesmerized, he froze, just staring at it.

  He didn’t realize it was flying away from the ocean.

  “JESUS, come on!”

  Darryl pounded his fist against the Vertol’s ceiling. Where the hell were they?! The chopper’s propeller blades were already thumping but Darryl didn’t see any sign of Jason, Lisa, and Phil in the smoldering forest. They had to get up to the sky right now. If they didn’t, Craig would be all alone up the there, and the creature could escape. He pounded his fist again. “Jesus, Jason, where are you?!”

  “GET UP, Phil! Please get up!”

  Jason pulled frantically on Phil’s sweaty arm, trying to yank him off the ground.

  “I’m trying!” Phil had just fallen and was squirming in a massive pile of slippery black ash.

  Jason suddenly saw that his bootlaces were undone. He spun to Lisa. “Go! Go right now!”

  “Jason, I want to wait for—”

  “We’re gonna lose this damn thing! Get into the air with Darryl! Go!”

  Lisa sprinted away, and Jason turned back—just as Phil rapidly tied his laces.

  “Where are you, Darryl?” Craig drummed his fingers tensely, the creature rocketing straight toward his hovering bird, maybe four seconds from impact. He glanced down at the black clouds tensely, but there was no sign of the Vertol. He turned back as . . .

  The predator rushed closer, the black eyes looking right at Craig through the window.

  He swallowed nervously.

  Then his eyes hardened. He looked right back at the creature. And didn’t blink. “No way in hell are you getting past me.”

  He accelerated straight for the animal, picking up speed like a missile, a game of chicken in the air.

  The predator didn’t change direction. Neither did Craig. They were going to collide. . . .

  LISA SPRINTED around a tree. Darryl was standing outside the Vertol now, torrents of black ash flying everywhere, frantically waving her forward. “Let’s go! Let’s go’s! Let’s—”

  She covered her eyes and ran into the black. As she got into the Vertol, they immediately started rising. Very fast, like a fighter jet at takeoff. Lisa felt like she might vomit and was suddenly blinded by black smoke. Then the smoke cleared, and they shot into the blue.

  Darryl turned frantically. But where was Craig? Where was the creature? He didn’t see them anywhere.

  CRAIG SUMMERS opened his eyes. He didn’t know what had happened. He was still airborne, but where was the Demonray? He frenetically searched everywhere—left, right, down, behind, above. Where was it? He looked straight ahead. The Demonray was flying away from him, toward the ocean. Suddenly the big Vertol shot past Craig’s chopper and Darryl was in his headset. “We got it now, Craig, we got it. Go get Jason and Phil.”

  Darryl easily caught up with the creature, nosing just a few feet behind it, driving it toward the sea. The animal already looked tired, and Darryl told himself this wasn’t going to be hard at all. Then he realized who he was flying with. Lisa Barton was still breathing heavily, her white skin reddened, her hair dotted with black ash. Until now, she’d performed fantastically—bravely, admirably. But now she had to take it up a level. Perhaps ten levels.

  “Soccer Mom, you’re gonna have to take this helicopter’s controls soon.”

  “Yeah, right, Darryl.”

  Darryl turned to her, and he didn’t wink. “I’m serious. We’re ending this right here, and I can’t shoot while I’m flying. Get ready. You’re going to take the controls.”

  “COME ON! Come on! Come on!” Craig watched tensely as Jason and Phil rapidly climbed the ladder he’d just sent down. When they got in, he spun back. “Get the ladder up! Switch is over there!”

  They started ascending, and Phil just pulled the ladder in bodily. When he finished he noticed Jason, clearly doing anything not to look at him. “Jason! I just want you to know how sorry I am!”

  Hair blowing, in the swirling wind, Jason simply turned to him. He didn’t say a word. It was all in the look.

  Craig suddenly spun back to them. “Close the goddamn door!”

  Phil tossed the ladder aside and slammed the door closed. Then they really started moving fast.

  “DARRYL’S GOT it.” In the passenger seat now, Jason saw it clearly as they screamed toward the ocean: the lumbering Vertol had driven the predator out to sea. A few hundred yards offshore, the Demonray was no longer flapping but gliding back and forth in uneven lines. It looked tired, like it didn’t know what it was doing, the giant jungle-green bird blocking its path back to the land. The Sikorsky sped forward. It hovered to a stop next to the Vertol when Jason glanced over and saw who was at the controls. “Is that . . . Lisa?”

  IN THE back of the Vertol, Darryl leaned up front. “You OK?”

  At the controls, L
isa nodded, tense but composed. “You’re right. Holding it steady’s not that bad. Just make sure I don’t have to move it, Darryl. We’ll both die in a hurry.”

  Darryl pulled a headset to his ear. “Craig, you see who’s at the controls over here?! If that thing goes anywhere, anywhere at all, you take care of it.”

  “Got that.”

  Darryl glanced outside. “We’re gonna end this now anyway.”

  Lisa didn’t doubt it. Mounted near the door was a truly frightening-looking piece of equipment. The “harpoon gun” was taller than she was, a heavy piece of steel with two elasticized cables as thick as baseball bats and an electric motor to pull the projectile back. Lisa thought the creature was in trouble.

  The headset crackled. “Want anyone to shoot from my bird, Hoss?”

  Darryl paused. His equipment alone would certainly be enough to kill the predator, but why take chances? “Tell Jason to shoot. Wait for me to fire first. Over and out, Craig.” He tossed the headset and put his hand on the door. “You ready for this, Soccer Mom?”

  Lisa’s eyes hardened. “Go ahead.”

  As the wind rushed in, Darryl turned forward. “You still OK?!”

  “Fine! Let’s get going!”

  Darryl didn’t need to be told twice. He moved rapidly. On the far wall were two dozen extremely dangerous-looking projectiles. Technically they were harpoons, originally designed by a Japanese weapons manufacturer to shoot whales. The projectiles were eighty pounds each, six feet long, and had tips as sharp as broken glass. Darryl lifted one, loaded it, then pressed a button. In an instant, an electric pulley similar to a crossbow’s pulled the spike back until the cables were taut.

  Then he aimed at the predator gliding below.

  “PLEASE HOLD on to that.” Jason pointed to the unwound ladder at Phil’s feet. “I don’t want it blowing in the wind when I open the door.”

  Phil quickly shoved it under his seat.