Them-2 - Chapter 11-12

Chapter Eleven – Bowling Green, Kentucky, USA

Huck awoke to a loud rapping on his door. It took a few moments for him to adjust to where he was and for the events of the past several days to slowly flow back into his mind.
“Coming!” He stumbled from his warm bed and pulled his pants on. He jerked the drapes from the window as he passed to see who was banging at the door. It was still dark out but the yellow exterior lighting showed a man in the uniform of a sheriff’s deputy. Huck opened the door and motioned for the man to enter.
“Sheriff Mitchell want’s to see you,” the sagging deputy stated. Huck could tell that the deputy was nearing the end of his night shift because the man looked tired and obviously ready to head for home.
Huck glanced at his watch, which read 5:15 am. He’d gotten less than four hours sleep. “Tell the sheriff I’ll be there as soon as I shower and dress. I know where the station is, I was there earlier yesterday.”
The deputy nodded his head. “Sheriff says it’s urgent.”
“Always is,” Huck replied, motioning for the deputy to leave so he could get himself dressed.
Within half an hour Huck was shown into Sheriff Mitchell’s office. The sheriff looked as if he had pulled an all nighter. He had dark circles under his eyes and the armpits of his uniform jacket were stained as if he had spent a lot of time in the humid outdoors. Mitchell was a big man, about Huck’s height but carrying an extra fifty pounds of flab on his once muscular frame. He was in his late fifties or early sixties with a balding head, bulbous nose, and sagging chin. His eyes were icy blue and held a twinkle of curiosity.
“Chief Deputy Matlock told me you were in the area,” Sheriff Mitchell burped. “Told me you were looking into a kidnapping out at that camp where the religious con artist set up shop.”
Huck nodded his head.
“Matlock said you found some bloody chains wrapped around several trees?”
“Victims were tied to the trees to do penance according to their leader. They allegedly volunteered to do the penance. Appears as if some wild animals got to them, but we found no traces of their remains.”
Sheriff Mitchell glanced down at a file folder laying on his desk and then back up at Huck. The look on his face indicated that he wasn’t yet certain he wanted to share the information in the folder with the FBI. After a few moments of hesitation he pointed to a seat then sat down behind his desk in a ragged old swivel chair.
“My deputies were called to the scene of a home invasion late yesterday afternoon.” The sheriff picked up the dog-eared folder and handed it to Huck. “The mother-in-law of one of the residents called and reported that her daughter’s trailer had been blown open and blood was splattered everywhere. She thought it might be terrorist. The trailer belonged to Billy Joe Russell and his wife Lou Ann. They had one son, Billy Junior. When I joined the deputies at the scene, it was obvious that the people inside had been butchered and their bodies carried off. We found part of Lou Ann’s hand and part of a foot from the baby. Otherwise, it could have been staged to look like a murder with the amount of blood on the carpet.”
Huck glanced at the digital copies of the photos. The exterior shots immediately caught his interest.
“It looks as if these walls were pulled out, not caved in?”
“My thought exactly,” Sheriff Mitchell replied. “If someone ran into the trailer with a truck or something similar, the walls would be crushed inward. Whoever did this must have hooked chains to the widows and pulled the wall out. Doesn’t make sense. Front door was wide open.”
The power the giant ants would possess suddenly popped into Huck’s thoughts. It would be easy for those creatures to grab the thin metal of the trailer and rip it outward like opening a can of soup. There were far too many coincidences piling up to believe that some mad men had committed the crime. He looked at the tried face of Sheriff Mitchell to see if there was any indication that the man would believe an outlandish story like, giant ants.
“I may be on the wrong track and I’m not sure that I even believe what I am about to tell you, sheriff, but if you will bear with me I have something to share with you?”
Sheriff Mitchell looked curiously at him, then leaned back in his old chair.
Huck told him everything he had learned over the past twenty-four hours.
“Giant ants?” Sheriff Mitchell looked skeptical.
Huck held his hands out and shrugged. “My partner should be here soon. He’s bringing suitable clothing and weapons with him. I would appreciate it if you could have one of your deputies show us how to get to the Russell place. I’m just as skeptical as you are sheriff, but until we discover evidence to the contrary, I’m going under the assumption that we are dealing with something very deadly.”
“You say that a local scientist from the university and another one from Ireland believe these creatures may be loose out there in the woods?”
Huck nodded. “There’s also an Irish detective who has volunteered to assist us. She’s the daughter of the Irish scientist.”
“Giant ants, prehistoric eggs from Antarctica, Irish scientists, Irish detectives. You’re asking me to take quite a leap of faith in accepting this wild and crazy sounding story?”
Huck shrugged his shoulders. “I’d rather be safe than sorry.”
“I’ll ask Deputy Matlock to show you how to get to the Russell place. He’s just coming on duty and I need to grab a few hours sleep. It has been a long night.”
“Ask Matlock to meet me at my room at the motel?” Huck plopped the file folder back down on the sheriff’s desk. “I’ll call my partner and see when he’ll be here.”
Giant ants? Sheriff Mitchell thought, watching through his dirty office window as Huck got into his rented car and drove away. Where are they getting FBI agents from these days, Hollywood?”
As soon as Huck pulled into the motel parking lot he spotted a black SUV with government plates on it. Evidently, Horse had gotten an early start. Louisville was a couple hours north. He also spotted several other vehicles with rental plates. Before he opened his motel room door he knew Detective Gallagher was there. The perfume trail she left had a strong but pleasant smell, that is, unless Horse had taken to using women’s perfume.
Horse was sitting in a chair by the television stuffing his face with fast food. Kayle was sitting on the bed nearest the bathroom. She wore khaki colored jeans, rugged trail boots, and a long sleeve shirt with extra zippered pockets. A floppy tan bush hat lay on the bed next to her. She had her beautiful auburn hair up in a ponytail. She smiled as Huck entered the room.
Horse nodded between bites of food. He was dressed in blue jeans, heavy outdoor boots, wore a green and red checkered flannel shirt with a dark leather vest over the shirt. Huck could tell he was not wearing body armor, nor did he wear the silly slip over with the bit FBI letters prominent on the back. Horse was proud of his status as an agent but he disdained flaunting it when he was on assignment. He had his Government Issue 9mm in a holster on his hip.
“Your stuff is on the bed.” Horse pointed, loosing a piece of hotdog. Gas station hotdogs were Horse’s favorite fast food. Huck had seen him devour six or seven loaded dogs at a time, and that was when he wasn’t even hungry. “More dogs in the bag if you’re hungry.”
Huck spotted the coffee. “Thank God!” he blurted, reaching for the strong dark brew. Huck liked his coffee almost as much as Horse liked his dogs.
“Out early?” Kayle asked.
“Been to the local sheriff’s department. They had a home invasion yesterday and wanted to get my expert opinion. From the photos I saw I think our criminals may be Doctor Schmitt’s ants.”
Both Horse and Kayle became more alert.
“It looked like the trailer the victims were living in had been ripped out, not pushed in. I couldn’t tell from the photos if there were indentations on the metal framing, but local criminals would have to go through one hell of a lot of trouble and planning to create the same effect.”
Horse swallowed his last piece of hotdog. “Did you say anything to the sheriff about the ants?”
“Gave him the whole story. Can’t say he believed me though.”
“We gonna start our search there?”
“Sheriff Mitchell said he’d send his chief deputy around to show us the way to the crime scene. That’s as good a place to start as any. We might even be able to do some backtracking.”
Horse walked over to the bathroom and pulled out a duffel bag. He reached into the bag and removed an M16 assault rifle. “Brought three of these,” he stated, looking at Kayle. “You know how to use one?”
Kayle grinned. “I can operate just about any individual weapon including the AK, Baretta, Bushmaster, Daewoo, Heckler & Koch, SAR, T91, Galil, and many others, but I prefer the British SA80 as I am more familiar with it. I have my service revolver with me, a 9mm Browning. The M16 will do fine.”
Horse glanced at her with an admiring look then handed her several thirty round magazines. They held armor-piercing rounds. Huck excused himself and went into the bathroom to change clothes.
It took less than an hour to reach the Russell residence, or what was left of it. Huck, Horse and Kayle followed Deputy Matlock about ten miles out of town on a state highway then turned down a dirt and gravel road for several miles. The mobile home was surrounded by yellow plastic police tape. A squad car and civilian truck were parked next to a fifty-five gallon drum, which the occupants obviously used as a burn barrel. It was eight a.m. but the temperature was already sweltering.
“Body parts have already been taken to the hospital morgue,” Deputy Matlock whispered. “Mrs. Jennings over there doesn’t know anything about that, she still thinks they’re missing. She’s Lou Ann’s mother and the one who called our office.”
Huck glanced slowly around. There had been no rain for several days so any prints should still be preserved. He nodded to Horse, indicating he should go talk with Mrs. Jennings, then he and Kayle headed for the mobile home. The trailer sat up on concrete blocks about two feet off the ground. A large gaping hole around seven feet tall and six feet wide exposed the interior of the trailer. Pieces of furniture and broken cabinets were strewn on the ground around the entrance to the hole.
Huck looked closely at the edges of the torn metal. There were gouge marks as if someone had taken a huge pair of pliers and pulled the sheet metal towards them. Each side of the hole was pealed back like a banana. There were no scorch marks from any interior explosion.
He looked suspiciously at Kayle. The same thoughts were running through both their minds. This was no prank staged by drunken rednecks or wanton killers. This was the work of something far more deadly. They walked over and climbed the short stairs to the small deck and entered the home. The place was a shambles. The dirty tan carpeting was drenched with a dark red stain. They casually glanced around then left.
“Does your department have a canine squad?” Huck asked Deputy Matlock.
“Tried that,” Matlock replied. “Had the dogs here for several hours last evening. They ran off down the road a ways then stopped at the edge of the woods. Damn animals refused to go any further. Acted like they were scared to death.”
Deputy Matlock was interrupted by a call from his car radio. He strolled over, answered it, and then walked back to where Huck was standing.
“Possum police found Billy Joe’s truck about a mile down a fire road.” Matlock saw the inquisitive look on Huck’s face and smiled. “Game Wardens,” he corrected. “They’re searching the area now.”
“Blubbering,” Horse stated, as he rejoined them. “Woman thinks Muslim terrorist kidnapped her daughter and son-in-law. She wants to talk with Homeland Security.”
“Can you show us where the truck was found?” Monday addressed the deputy.
They backtracked down the gravel road and stopped at what appeared to be an overgrown fire lane leading into the thick woods. Deputy Matlock pointed at the tire marks heading down into the overgrown lane. They parked their SUV, checked their weapons, and headed down the path. Deputy Matlock made a call to the Game Wardens advising them of their approach.
Thirty yards into the woods they found Billy Joe’s old pickup. Two Game Wardens were standing around smoking cigarettes and scratching their behinds. They were both elderly men and looked as if they had been Wardens since the era of Davy Crockett.
“Found Josh Hampel’s pickup just around the bend,” one of the gray-headed Wardens stated as they joined them. He glanced curiously at the agents then his eyes lingered on the lithe form of Kayle. “We also found what looks to be a blood trail leading off into the thickets. No sign of either Josh or Billy Joe.” Huck nodded indicating for the Wardens to show them the blood trail.
“Careful of where you step,” the other Warden warned. “Those two poachers were known to have several number 15 bear traps. Traps like that will snap a man’s leg right off under the right conditions.”
After trekking through the thick underbrush for half an hour, they found the first bear trap. The trap had been sprung. Huck bent over and closely examined it. An object the size of his wrist was caught between the broken teeth of the heavy trap. It looked like a dark colored piece of lobster shell. He removed the three-inch long piece and held it up so the Wardens could see it.
“Never seen anything like that before,” one of them stated. “Whatever it was sprung that trap must have been powerful, that trap is all broken to pieces. Sure wasn’t no bear done it.”
Huck pulled out a small plastic evidence bag and placed the piece into it then stowed it into his backpack. He noticed several deep clear tracks mixed in with what appeared to be a struggle around the trap. Whatever had made the tracks was no animal he recognized and he had spent many months in the wilderness as a young man.
He stood up and smelled the cloying air. There was a rancid smell, the same acrid odor he had smelled at the campsite of the cult. They suddenly heard a loud crashing sound in the trees to their right followed by an ear splitting roar.
“Bear!” one of the Game Wardens yelled, pulling his automatic from its holster.
For several minutes they could hear the back and forth roaring of the angry ursine carnivore. It sounded like the animal was in a deadly fight with another bear. They could hear small trees snapping and bushes thrashing. The roaring continued for several minutes then a high pitched scream of pain shattered the forest.
Huck motioned for Horse to follow and slowly made his way towards the dying sound. The remainder of the group spread out and followed his lead. As they came over the crest of a small rise they could still hear the snapping of twigs and a low crunching sound. The thick brush had thinned out so they could now see for thirty or more yards down the short incline into the overhanging pine forest. What presented itself was horrifying.
A giant ant, easily five or six hundred pounds, was methodically slicing the warm carcass of a huge black bear into pieces with its deadly looking mandibles. The snapping sound was the noise of the bear’s bones crunching. The giant ant had one silvery ten-foot wing attached to its back, the other wing lying on the ground several yards away. The fight with the black bear had evidently sheared it off.
The blasting of a pistol from his left shattered the grisly scene. Huck stood and yelled at the Game Warden to stop firing, but it was too late. The giant ant stopped its butchering process and reared up on its back legs, assaying the new menace. The rounds from the Warden’s pistol glanced off the hard body armor of the ant doing little but arousing the creature’s anger and instinct for survival. The ant charged up the hill in the direction of the noise.
The charging ant was incredibly fast. Before he could bring his rifle to bear the creature was already tearing into the Game Warden. The others scattered in panic. Huck held his ground but could see that the man stood no chance against the angry beast. Within seconds the Warden was chewed to pieces, his blood flung around the area like red water from a garden hose.
As soon as he determined that the man was beyond help, Huck opened fire with his M16. The armor piercing rounds did not glance off the ant’s body armor, but tore deadly chucks out of it. He instinctively felt firing to his right and glanced over to see Kayle emptying her ammunition magazine into the body of the thrashing creature. Horse quickly joined her and within seconds the giant ant fell heavily to the bloody pine needle covered ground.
The smell of burned powder permeated the windless scene. Their ears were ringing from the loud noises of the semi automatic fire. Huck fitted a full magazine of ammunition into his weapon then walked towards the dead or dying creature. Several of its legs had been blown off along with both antennae. The abdomen was pierced in dozens of places and the head was shattered like a melon. A rank odor spread out from the dead ant, an odor that Huck finally identified as formic acid.
Huck glanced at the wide-eyed expressions covering the faces around him. He looked at the remains of the Game Warden and the sliced up body of the bear.
“I guess we have our proof,” he muttered. “Can you call back and have someone meet us here with several all terrain vehicles?” he asked Deputy Matlock.
Matlock finally broke from his silent terror and walked off a few paces to make the call.
“We must take this creature’s remains back to Doctor Schmitt and your father,’ Huck looked at Kayle. “I have a feeling we are witnessing the beginning of something terrible.”
“Every second counts now,” Kayle replied, looking at the translucent wing attached to the back of the beast. She was smart enough to know that only future queens and drones possessed wings.
How many more are out there? Kayle thought.


Chapter Twelve – Bowling Green, Kentucky, USA

She was highly disturbed by the recently reported news. Food was becoming very scarce. Her scouts were ranging further and further from the nest but pickings were harder to find. She was producing hundreds of offspring but had been concentrating on future queens. She would have to realign her production to birth more hunters and gathers and possibly more protectors. She was aware that a number of her foragers never returned to the nest but she did not know the cause.
She was in contact with her sisters in nearby nests. They had formed a pheromone pact and split the territory up so warfare would not break out. Between them, they had dispatched almost five thousand future queens. The survival of the species was of paramount importance.
A report from several foragers indicated a large population of food was massed not far from the nest. These foragers indicated that the terrain and smells were inhospitable and potentially dangerous. She did not have the benefit of selection. Without food she could not produce the numbers of workers needed to sustain the ever-growing nest. She would have to risk the loss of foragers. She passed orders to the gatherers to invade this nest of food whatever the cost.
Meanwhile, hundreds of future queens had completed their nuptial flights. They had scattered to the four winds. Some had flown no more than fifty or sixty miles during their mating dances while others had traveled hundreds, even thousands of miles. Every continent on the planet now had mature queens hunting for nesting sites. Many found adequate sites in hidden caves, others in abandoned mining shafts, some in abandoned buildings, while others invaded the subterranean areas of major cities. It was the end of the beginning, or beginning of the end for humankind.