SHORT STORY: From Flesh to Fly

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The orb-weaver sat motionless though her silken trap danced upon a tender breeze. She had eaten well this past week. Cow carcasses dotted the Kansas wheat field for miles, each one swarming with insects. She'd taken advantage of the carnage. Her web bisected an open barn window, a perfect snare for any intruder seeking the decomposed cattle inside.

A captured fly struggled hopelessly against the sticky surface. The desperate jig sent pulses across the web and within seconds the spider was upon him. Soon, another impact. And another. Flies peppered the web'’s surface. The spider hesitated, now unable to distinguish one victim from the next. Then, something unnatural. The web itself became a cloud of flies. Stunned, she lost support beneath her body. As she plummeted, she saw a similar transformation befall the spackled barn walls. They too lost their forms. Wood became insect. Vast sheets of it dispersed into spiraling black specks. The orb-weaver exploded into animated, buzzing life before she could hit the floor.

The people of nearby Belldover marveled at the ominous collective buzz of a billion incoming flies.

#

"It's surrounded by what?"” asked Dale Raleigh. Remembering his manners, he removed his purple K.S.U. cap and exposed a gleaming bald spot.

The sheriff plucked at his impressive sideburns with untrimmed fingernails. "“It'’s a wall. The damnedest thing. An enormous, black wall."

"More of a cube, George. It has a top." added Susie "Scoot"” Gershin. "Although technically we don't know if it has a bottom."

"“How could they build a wall in ...— "

"Cube."

"How could they build a cube around the entire city in just one night? I was up at Moby'’s just yesterday. There wasn'’t any construction--something that big would take months!" said Dale.

"There'’s something else,"” added Scoot. "The cube seems to be moving."

"“Moving where?"

"Not like that ... it'’s staying in place. It's just that the thing ... shimmers."” His embarrassment painted stark reds across his pale cheeks. During emergencies, George tried to adopt the mannerisms of a big screen, small town lawman. He'd lean against walls, gaze away randomly, and take extra time to let his words sink in.

More like Captain Kirk than aything, thought Dale. "“Is there a reason you two are fucking with me today? I'’ve got work to do."”

"It'’s not a joke, Dale. We need you to ... just have a look at it."”

"Why? I build houses, George, what do I know about shimmering cubes? What am I supposed to do about it?"

"You'’ve done demolition. We were hoping you'd help us tear it down,"” said Scoot. Her rugged firefighter suit drooped heavily from her tiny frame. Scoot was a good foot shorter than Dale, but her meager physique had never hampered her ability to run a tight firehouse.

"“Maybe they don'’t want us to--"

"Dale, the phone lines are cut. The power lines too."

"“Did you try cell phones?"

"“No luck there, either. The signals are being blocked by the walls, or--"”

"“Or what?"”

"Let'’s not worry about that yet. Let'’s get that barrier down first. How long would it take you to get your machines out there?"

"It depends on which ones I'll need. Did anyone get a look at what it'’s made of?"

"“Not up close, no ...– just a '‘copter view,"” said Scoot.

"“Why not? Maybe there's a door."

"“Fear, Dale. Nobody has the balls. All kinds of rumors going around. Aliens, disease, biblical prophecies, you name it."

"What about the big boys? Shouldn'’t we wait on them?"

"They'’re on the way ... though I don'’t think they believed my story,"” said George. "“We'’re not expecting them until late. I need to move on this fast. If there'’s any way we can save people in there, we'’re doing it."

"You mean I'’m doing it?"”

The two guests stared uncomfortably at each other, each hoping the other would come up with a convincing reply. There was no avoiding the simple fact that Dale was their "go-to"” guy, and Dale knew it. Dale could run for any office in town and would stand a damn good chance of winning. I've helped George and Scoot so many times that they, hell the whole town for that matter, won't act on something this big without my advice, he thought. "We can get you a bio suit if it will make you feel better,"added Scoot.

"“No, it won'’t."

#

Dale caught a foul whiff of Belldover as he passed over her farms.

"“What the hell is that?"”

"“Sewer pipes. Severed below the ground and bubbling up. Look over there." The pilot, Carlton Jones, pointed towards the opposite helicopter window, indicating the dead cattle below. Kansas still hadn'’t robbed him of his Caribbean lilt.

"Can sewage do that?"” Dale shouted above the whirling blades.

"We're not sure, but it'’s one possibility. We have an autopsy team down there, see them?"

Dale watched two men in clumsy protective suits toss a carcass into the back of a pickup truck.

"Where are the farmers?"

"Gone. Houses are empty," said George.

"This doesn'’t make any sense."

"You haven'’t seen anything yet."

And he hadn'’t. Belldover pushed into focus through a sheet of morning haze. A dark obelisk encased the main portion of the city. Dale was sure that if bad shit could be labeled miraculous, he was staring at a bona fide miracle.

"“It's changed shape," said Scoot.

The surface was undulating, it'’s edges hard to distinguish against the sky. It was as if an enormous, gnarled finger reached skyward from the endless Kansas plains.

"“I said it'’s changed shape. Dale?"

"“I ... uh."

"Yeah, exactly. Take us down, Carlton."

The highway patrol chopper descended behind a large crowd of uniformed workers and its passengers hopped out. Fear had drawn an invisible line across the landscape and nobody crossed it. It wasn'’t long before Dale and Scoot pushed their way to the front. A long stretch of highway, its passing lane paint serving as guidelines straight into chaos, teased Dale. This is your path, buddy. You'’re the go-to guy, so get to going.

"“I'’m going to need a ride,"” said Dale, "“are you coming with me?"

"“She'’s not,"” said George. He hesitated, scratched his chin, then continued, "“I am. Wait here, I'’ll get my car."

The two men drove at a cautious thirty miles per hour towards Belldover. Neither spoke. Once in a while, they would glance into the rearview and watch the line of people grow smaller in the distance. The black wall produced a sharp static noise that made both men squirm, and it was growing worse. Any other time Scoot would have been with them, and, Dale suspected, she was probably fuming back at the staging area. Once, she'd named their trio the Super Friends, but her fire crew lovingly renamed them the Stupid Friends. They'd dubbed Dale their Superman, George claimed Batman, and Scoot decided she'd be the Human Torch. Her friends had cried blasphemy, but you couldn't argue with Scoot.

Dale flipped on the siren, startling the Sheriff.

"“Jesus Christ! Are you trying to kill me Dale?"”

"Sorry, I thought the people inside might hear it and know somebody'’s trying to help."

“"It'’s a good idea ... just give me some warning next time. How close do you want to go?"”

"“All the way, I guess. We need to see what we'’re dealing with."

"We can always count on y--"“

"Yeah, yeah."”

#

Fifteen minutes later, George'’s Crown Victoria barreled towards the crowd, sirens screaming, but this time Dale manned the wheel. He fish-tailed the car before bringing it to an abrupt stop. Dry-heaving, he tumbled out onto the scorching road.

"Dale! Dale ... what happened? Where'’s George?"” Scoot ran to the car.

"“He'’s ... the wall ... pulled him in! Flies! It'’s made of flies!"”

"What?"” She kneeled by his side and gasped when she saw his condition.

Dale tightly gripped the upper portion of his left arm. The bottom portion was missing.

"“Stay away from me!"” The crowd stepped back in unison. The fingers of his right hand began to spasm, the skin blackened, and soon his flesh became flies. Scoot had never seen Dale in pain before; his screaming was unbearable. She rushed to help him, but her effort was pointless. She tried to tourniquet the stump of one arm with his sleeve, but felt the skin beneath become a multitude of insects eager to escape his shirt. His shoes fell empty to the sides and his pant legs gave birth to buzzing black masses. Veins sprayed his life at the pavement, but even his blood took flight. Dale struggled with one final, desperate breath before his chest dissolved. Scoot finally let go when she held only his eyeless head. Seconds later, it too became flies.

Blubbering, Scoot pleaded with the crowd, but most fled to their vehicles and headed back towards normality (something they would likely never have again). Carlton tugged at her suspenders.

"“Come on, Scoot! This is way beyond us. We need to get out of here and wait for the feds."

"I ... tried. There was nothing--"

"You did what you could. We have to go now."

"But George ...— "

"Is dead."

"“We don'’t know that!"

"We don'’t have to know that. You saw what I saw. This is biblical shit, Scoot. Beyond us. Way beyond us."

Scoot recalled a quote from her father, the quote that helped her keep control of her team through the worst situations. He'’d said, "Give me five weak people and nothing gets done. Give me one strong person and I'’ve got four more."

"George wouldn'’t leave us in there. Damnit, we'’re both rescue, aren'’t we?"

"“Do your people run blindly into fires?"

"Sometimes, yes. If we have a chance to save somebody. I have an idea, but I can'’t do it alone."

"What'’s your idea?"

"He said flies. The walls are ... flies. If that's true, we can kill them with the fire engine. There'’s water in the tank. We can cut through those walls, I'’m sure of it."” She made sweeping gestures with her arms to represent the slicing water streams.

The fire chief was usually very composed; Carlton was shocked to see her so close to hysteria.

"That'’s a terrible idea. Do you really want to get that close? You'’re not going to have enough water to last anyway."

"We can push through to Westworn street. There are hydrants on every block once we reach the city."” It was David Ortez, one of Scoot'’s veteran firefighters. David stood taller than anyone else on the team, but his intimidating size was muted by his soft-spoken manner. He seemed calm, but Scoot noticed vomit spatter on his pants.

"“You'’re going, Ortez?"” asked Carlton. He reached into the patrol car and cut the siren.

"“It'’s what we do. And George is a friend."” David hefted an axe onto his shoulder. "“You going home?"”

"“I ... I can'’t let you people kill yourselves. I'’ll go with you, but if things start to look bad, we turn back. Deal?"”

"Start to? What'’s your definition of bad?"

"“Let'’s just be careful."

"“We'’re coming too."” Kevin Cornell spoke for a cluster of mixed rescue employees: cops, EMS, and, of course, some of Scoot'’s boys. Two large fire engines arrived, followed by an ambulance. Somebody cranked up a heavy metal CD and Kevin spun around. "“Please tell me you're not playing post-haircut Metallica in my ambulance!"”

"This is not the time," said Carlton.

It was the perfect time, thought Scoot. Testosterone and levity, two great motivators.

The caravan cruised down the highway, Scoot'’s engine in the lead, Tad Clemens behind the wheel of the second truck, and Kevin'’s ambulance taking up the rear.

"“I never sit in the front car of a roller coaster,"” said David.

"“I hear you, man."” Carlton was squinting for a better view of the wall.

Within a couple minutes of hauling ass, they had nearly reached Belldover. Though she never doubted Dale'’s statement after witnessing his death, actually viewing the obelisk'’s shifting mass shook Scoot. The tip of its grotesque peak now spiraled into the sky and lost form, insects ascending to some unknown destination. The base remained solid despite its constant rippling.

"“Scoot'’s on your tailboard, who's driving?"” Tad'’s voice called through the CB.

"I am. What'’s up?" David answered.

"Look far to your left. Do you see it?"

"What am I looking for?"

"“There'’s a recess in the wall. It seems to be getting bigger."

"“Yeah, I see it now. We'’ll meet you there."”

The vehicles broke from the highway. David ran down a thin wire fence, and then continued onto the flat field beyond. The single-file driving order was broken and Kevin'’s ambulance began to flank far to the left.

The tear in the insect wall curled its edges like lips and exhaled a burst of flies. David rolled up his window.

"This is bad. This is bad. Time to go b--"“ Carlton'’s eyes locked onto a new shape emerging from Belldover. He grabbed the CB. "“Kevin, get the hell out of there! There'’s something coming your way!"”

"We see it. Just a cluster of flies. We'’ll be introducing them to our windshield momentarily."”

Scoot studied the ball of flies. It hung low to the ground--touched it, in fact. It moved towards the trucks at an impressive speed, not with a chaotic looping motion as she expected, but with a clear direction. She caught a glimpse of something ... animal beneath the swarm. Frantic, she waved to the ambulance, but their attention was focused on the swarm. She pounded on the back of the truck, attracting Carlton's attention. Scoot pointed at the incoming monstrosity and Carlton shrugged. David was mesmerized by the impending impact between the two speeding bodies.

The swarm hopped over a rock in its path and for a second everyone saw through the masquerade. A headless, four-legged beast jumped slightly out of its insect escort before vanishing behind the black again. It was mangled and pink, with bones protruding haphazardly from its skin. To Scoot, it looked like a bull turned inside-out.

Carlton'’s CB squawked to life. "“Did you see that? Holy shit, did you see that?"” The ambulance spun to its side to avoid the impact, but only ended up offering the beast a bigger target. The impact was quick and brutal. Displaced metal rippled around the splattered creature'’s shape, spraying the side of the van with crimson wash. The vehicle spun and tipped. Scoot struggled to see through the growing dirt cloud. Carlton shouted something out his window, but she was too shocked to comprehend.

Finally, a figure emerged from the haze--Kevin. His forehead spilled blood down his face and shirt, and he desperately limped away from the wreck. He had taken a gun from one of the cops in his ambulance, but his arm hung limp to the side. David was already steering towards his downed friends.

"Hang on, Kevin!"” called Scoot.

A shadow overtook the ambulance driver from behind. He glanced over his shoulder, screamed, and pulled a pistol from his waistband. There was no time to fire; it easily tackled the wounded man, striking with such force that Kevin nearly folded in half backwards. Scoot'’s fire engine pulled to a stop and she leaped from the back. Arms flailing and mustering the most horrible scream she could, she dashed towards the violent scene. Despite the fire chief'’s best efforts, the beast didn'’t run. There was no moment of confusion or hesitation, it just simply turned and charged her.

In the moments before contact, Scoot realized it wasn'’t like a bull at all. It was even larger and wore a span of tumor-knotted flesh wrapped tautly around engorged muscles. Instead of hooves, its legs peeled away to reveal misshapen clusters of bone. The head was absent, but the gash in its place was lined with spit-slathered, jagged teeth. It loosed a cry that sounded like muffled diarrhea.

Scoot'’s forearms crossed to protect her face. She winced and prepared for the worst, but it never came.

An impressive fire axe whooped end over end across the field and plunged deep into the creature'’s flank. With the beast stunned, David followed up with a steel-toed assault and recovered his weapon. In a stunningly swift motion, David brought the painted axe head down again and again as the creature gurgled in dying protest. The violence ended as quickly as it had begun. David stood silently over his fallen foe for a moment before wiping sweat from his brow.

"I think it's dead now,"” he said.

Scoot could only stare.

The two were interrupted by Carlton's voice. "It killed everyone inside. Kevin'’s dead too!"

"“Wait a minute-- where is Tad'’s crew?"” asked Scoot. She scanned the field and the second fire engine was not in it.

"“They went ... in."” said Carlton.

"“In?"

"“Drove right through the wall, didn'’t even stop."

"That'’s crazy!"” said David. "“Why would they do that?"

"“We'’ll worry about that later ... when we get in there,"” said Scoot.

"Get in there? How many people have to die before you'’ve had enough?"” Carlton pointed at Belldover.

She ignored his question. "“I'’ll get the pump started. David, take the hose. Let'’s do this before another one of those ... things comes out."

David propped his axe against the truck and started to unwind the hose while Scoot focused on the machinery. Cartlon threw his hands up in frustration, but neither noticed. He quietly walked to Kevin's corpse, hesitated for a moment before stepping over the beast's carcass, and then plucked the hand gun from Kevin'’s hand. He returned to the truck and jabbed the gun's nose into David's back.

What the fuck, man?" David dropped the hose and reached for his axe.

"“Carlton! What'’s wrong with you? Put it down!"

Scoot stood frozen.

"Look at us! What are we going to accomplish here? The sound of that thing, which is made out of fucking flies, by the way, is getting worse. We've been attacked by a headless godknowswhat. Most of us are already dead or missing and you want to spray water at it. You want to piss it off more. Well, I'’m stopping this. I'’m saving our lives. Get back into that truck and turn it around, we're leaving."

"“I'’m warning you, friend. Take that gun off me."”

"And I'’m warning you. Get in the truck. I'm not staying here."”

David gripped his axe tightly and closed his eyes. Scoot noticed.

"Stop this! Let's just focus on what we need to do he--"

Carlton pointed his gun upwards to fire a warning shot.

"“No, don'’t!"” Scoot screamed.

Pop!

David flinched. He spun around, using the momentum to drive his fire axe upwards. Carlton dropped the pistol.

"Wait! I--" The axe shaved off Carlton’s face just above the upper jaw. The body crumpled into a twitching pile and the airborne chunk landed several feet away.

"Jesus Christ!"” said Scoot.

David threw up again. "“Am I shot? Scoot! I don't feel where it hit-- do you see anything?"”

"“You aren't hit! It was a warning shot!"”

"“Oh God. I'’m sorry I didn'’t--—"

Scoot spoke through tears. "You had no way of knowing."

"Still, I should have--—"

"David. You had no way of knowing. Come on, we need to get this working."” Scoot picked up Kevin's gun before approaching the pump system.

The powerful stream was more effective than Scoot had imagined. Instead of simply knocking out specific sections of the wall, even untouched areas began to separate into individual insects and disperse. After several minutes, the tank'’s water ran out, but they'd taken down a large portion of the living barrier. The remains of Belldover were exposed. The tops of buildings had vanished, the middle floors blackened with flies. Streams of insects rose towards the sky. To Scoot, each building was like a giant candle with a shivering black flame.

"“It looks like we'’re too late,"” said David. Tad'’s fire engine rested on its side, just a few yards inside the wall.

"We need to get to them," said Scoot. The two firefighters returned to their own vehicle.

"What happens when we cross that edge?"” he indicated where the wall had been. Now only a puddle thick with drowning flies stood in their path.

"“I don'’t know. I can go alone, David. You did your job."

"Not a chance."

They held hands and Scoot gently stepped on the gas. As the fire engine crossed the edge of the city, both firefighters tensed. David held up his hands and watched them carefully, flipping them top to bottom, but there was no transformation.

"“I think we'’re OK,"” said Scoot.

"Yeah, it looks like it. Pull up next to Tad's truck and I'’ll check it out."”

The interior of the vehicle swelled with black motion, a mass so thick there was no way to see inside.

Scoot bowed her head. "“Carlton was right. We never should have come here. I'’m responsible for all these people. What will I tell their families?"

"Tell them they died trying to save lives."

Scoot sighed. Admitting failure meant admitting that lives were wasted. She shifted the truck into reverse. David groaned and held his belly.

"What'’s wrong?"”

"Stomach hurts. It hurt before, but it'’s gotten worse since we drove inside. Are we leaving?"

"Yes." The finality stung.

Something leapt into the side mirror, arms raised high.

"“Is that--George! It'’s George!"” Scoot opened her door.

"“It'’s not safe out here! You have to get off the street!"” The Sherriff had a butcher knife tucked beneath his snakeskin belt. He was panting; a fit of coughing soon overtook him.

"“Hop on! We'’re getting out of here!"” she answered.

"“No, we can'’t leave. There are survivors! Come on, we're going to be seen out here!"”

Though they hesitated a moment, Scoot and David abandoned their vehicle and followed the lawman. They hadn't run far when Scoot realized people were forming a crowd in a nearby intersection. "Look! Survivors!" she said.

"No--those aren't human," said George.

Scoot tried to make out details through the insect haze. Some of the figures were limping and others crawled along the ground. "Look at them! They're injured. George, we have to help!"

"They're not injured, they're deformed."

"“What are they?"” asked Scoot.

"Fuck if I know."

"Shitbags," added David.

"Yeah ... shitbags. Those are slow, but I've seen other kind, even some that fly. I hope you'’re good with that axe, Ortez."”

"I get by. But the one we saw was anything but slow."

"Two or four legs?"

"Four."

"Yeah, I saw one of those. I didn'’t stick around long. How about you, Scoot? Know how to use that gun?"

"“Never fired one in my life,"” she said.

"We'’ll trade, then. He gave Scoot his knife and then checked her weapon'’s ammunition before transferring it into his own empty gun. "“This is police issue. Where did you get this?"”

"There were cops in Kevin'’s ambulance when it ... crashed. He must have taken it from one of them."”

"Who? Were they hu--"” More coughing.

"They'’re dead,"” said David. "“Walker, I knew. The other two were twins."”

"Shit,"” George was better at hiding his emotions, but Scoot saw through it. "“Come on, there'’s a house over there that hasn't started changing yet."”

Something mangled and pink dipped in and out of the maelstrom high above them.

"Come on, move!"” said George. They entered what would have been a pleasant, cream-colored duplex before the disaster. It stood pristine within the chaos. The sheriff advanced with caution, gun raised, and visually cleared each room as they descended to the lower floor. He flicked on his Maglite and painted the room with soft illumination. "“They took people down here ... into the ground below. There's some sort of cave system. I ran out of ammunition before getting far in, so I had to come back out. We need Dale to have a look at this place. It definitely looks man-made. Where is Dale?"

"He'’s ... gone, George." Scoot mentally replayed her friend'’s demise, his hollowed-out eyes still staring.

George bowed his head. "“I keep expecting to wake up from this. Listen, there may still be some of those things down there, but I'm not going to waste bullets on them again. They seem mostly harmless."

"Mostly?"” asked David.

"Watch for the ones with fingers or teeth. The others don'’t really have a way to hurt us. Just stay away from them if you can, push themback if you can'’t, and I'’ll shoot when needed."”

Scoot held the butcher knife downward in imitation of her favorite cinematic slashers, gripping tighter when she heard gurgles from the darkness below.

"Yup, they're still here. Be careful," whispered George.

Squinting, Scoot tried to make sense of the shapeless black. She was pretty sure whatever was down there was more than a match for her imagination. The phlegm-filled whimpering jumped between sounding human and animal. This is as bad as it seems, and probably even worse, she thought, yet she kept moving.

George tried to be merciful with his flashlight, pointing it forward and not directly at the twitching creatures that lined the basement walls, but the soft glow splashed onto the room'’s occupants. Some of the creatures made aggressive, fluidic noises as the group passed. Each beast was uniquely deformed; some were missing pieces while others had stunted limbs jutting randomly from their blistered bodies. Headless, one of the beasts searched the wall with its long, tapered neck.

"Over there," George whispered, "They took them into that hole." He indicated a portion of the ground where the carpet had been peeled back and the planks removed. It was past the creatures.

David held his axe parallel to the floor. There was no room to swing the weapon without hurting his friends, but it would serve as a barrier if needed.

A shape sprouted from the hole. The thing pulled itself up with four sinewy legs, obscene lips uncurled and teeth dripping.

"No!"” David dashed in front of the fire chief and forced the axe handle into the creature'’s mouth. It chomped down, vigorously breaking its own teeth as it continued to chew.

"Give me a shot, Ortez!"” George had taken a trained shooter'’s stance.

David twisted his axe and hurled the creature onto its back, yet the jaws refused to release. George aimed at creature'’s lower neck and fired, spraying wet matter across the room. Holes splayed open across the surface of the convulsing body, revealing countless sets of teeth. The remaining creatures moaned; malformed heads turned and hidden maws opened.

"Oh, shit!"” David was back on his feet.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhh."” Head cocked, one of the creatures carried David'’s words from one of its many mouths. Its brothers were advancing.

"Don'’t!"” shouted Scoot. She didn'’t know if she could bring herself to stab another living creature, especially one that looked human.

George fired two shots, each one bursting its target. Red spatter stained a hanging photo of three smiling children. George hesitated. He put a fist to his mouth and coughed violently.

A blistered hand with five bony nubs hammered Scoot'’s back. She turned and sank her knife deep into a creature'’s gullet. It screamed and grabbed her tightly. Mouths across its body tore into her belly, thighs, and shoulder. Her fire suit protected the skin beneath at first, but the pointed fangs soon broke through and stung her flesh. She jammed her blade once into each eye, twisting it on the second stab. The creature hung limp on her clothing for a second before the body'’s weight pulled its teeth free.

George descended beneath the house, flashlight between his teeth, and the basement returned to shadow. A moment later, light flashed up through the hole. "“Get down here, we can outrun them!"

"George, you don'’t kn--"“

"“Hurry, Scoot! I don'’t think they can keep up. Look at them, they'’re crippled!"”

George helped Scoot climb down while David, now free to swing his weapon, cleaved into the advancing crowd.

"David?"” Scoot called to her friend.

No answer.

"“David, please."” It was almost a whisper.

Suddenly, the large man landed hard in front of her. He groaned and held his stomach.

"You're bleeding!"”

"“No, it'’s not mine--I don'’t think. Go!"” He nudged her shoulder and the three of them moved as fast as possible with only the sheriff'’s light to direct their passage through the cavern.

As they ran, the bobbing light revealed not only stone walls, but wooden planks propped up as support beams. There were no industrial tools strewn about or even signs of past mining.

"What is this?"” asked David. When he received no reply, he said, "Hold up a second. I don'’t think they followed. We need to rest."”

"Ortez, I don'’t know how much life my battery has left. We need to get in and get out as fast as possible."”

"Get in and do what?"

"Find those people and free them."

"You said they were taken--taken by what?"

"Well, there were the ... shitbags mostly. But there was a man with them, too. A midget. He was giving them orders."”

"A man? You'’re saying people did this?" Scoot asked.

"I'’m saying I saw a midget with them, that'’s it. Christ, I don't know what any of this is about! All I know is that we have a chance to something that makes sense in this ... madness, and I'’m going to take it."

"Those people are probably dead by now,"” said David.

"“Maybe not, but they probably wish they were,"” a strained voice spoke from ahead.

The trio startled.

Under George'’s light, an elderly man approached with an arm over his eyes. "Can you point that away?"

"“Who are you?"” asked Scoot. She pointed her bloody knife at him.

"“Uh--Lawrence. Did the government send you? It's too late."” He studied their uniforms. Lawrence was completely bald, even his eyebrows were absent. He wore a dirt-stained hospital gown and one battered slipper.

"Not exactly, it'’s just us so far, but the cavalry should be here soon. What are you doing down here?"”

"“They took me, along with the other patients in my wing."

"How many others?"” Scoot spoke with concerned confidence, something she picked up while dealing with fire victims throughout her career.

"“Seven of us. There were more, but ... uh."” His hand gestures indicated explosions.

"“They blew up?"” asked David.

"“No, he means flies,"” said Scoot.

"“Yes. It murdered ... children ... nurses. Didn't touch us. Why? What good are we?"”

"What do you mean?"” asked Scoot.

"“15G. Terminal Cancer Ward. We'’re all dying anyway."”

"How did you escape?"”

"“I didn'’t. He let me go. Said I wasn'’t ... ripe."”

"“Who?" George raised his voice, sending it far into the caverns.

"The dwarf. You said you saw him too."

"“I did. So there are six of your friends still in there?"

"Might be. Might be dead too. Either way, we need to get out of here!"

"We'’re not leaving. And you'’re coming with us." George grabbed Lawrence'’s arm and spun him around.

"There'’s no need to be rough!"” Scoot protested.

"“How far is it?"” asked George.

"“I had no light, so it'’s not far at all. I was slowly finding my way in the dark. The tunnel turns. You won'’t need your flashlight once we turn."

How quickly he backed down, thought Scoot, he'’s given up. He just wants to die.

Eventually the tunnel did turn, and it began to pick up the faint light from a nearby chamber. The group moved close to the wall with their heads low. The same gurgling sounds they had heard in the basement were repeated here, only louder. Creatures squealed and grunted, and every so often the sounds of human agony broke through.

George peaked around the corner and his face went slack.

"What do you see?"” whispered David.

"It'’s ... horrible. So many of them."

"“Do you see any survivors?"

"“No ... only those things. Wait, there's the dw--"

"Oh Larry ... "” A voice beckoned from the chamber.

"No."” Lawrence fell to his knees.

"“I told you ... we're not ready for you yet. Are you trying to cut in line?"

"Please, shoot me."” Lawrence begged George as reached for the sheriff'’s gun.

"“Who are you talking to, Larry? Did you bring friends?"” the voice asked, and then to someone close to him, "“bring them in."”

George's eyes bulged, and he unleashed a horrible scream. He charged into the chamber and began to fire. A second later, David followed. Scoot reached out to Lawrence.

"“Come on, get up!"

"Leave me alone!"

Scoot left the old man on the floor and chased after her friends. Stunned, she stopped at the vast chamber'’s entrance.

The scene before her was a surrealist'’s painting given life. Fleshy creatures melted and merged, some walking bipedal on her level, some in flight, and some impossibly traversing the walls. Above, a great whirlwind of flies orbited a sickening green light. Giants loomed over the smaller creatures, faces blank and pocked breasts dangling. They leaked milk from their foul mammary sacks onto the heads of their brethren. Under the milky deluge, new limbs sprouted and twisted muscles grew. An enormous cavern mouth led to blackness at the back of the chamber. At the center of the chaos, a dwarf sat calmly in a plain lawn chair.

Sprawled on the ground, George was unable to do anything but cough. He fought to catch each breath.

David held his stomach and rocked on the earthen floor, his axe dropped to one side. There were several pink carcasses around him.

Scoot felt a dull ache beneath her left nipple.

"“What is this?"” she demanded.

"You're pretty, but you weren'’t on my shopping list. Oh, I see ... congratulations to all three of you!"

"“For what?"

"One moment. Larry? Are you going to come out?"

There was no answer.

"So be it."” Jarrod closed his eyes and winced. There was a panicked scream before a stream of flies sped into the room and joined the swarm above.

"“Who are you? Why are you doing this?" David could barely speak through the pain.

"“Some call me Charles, but I like Jarrod better. Why am I doing this? Orders. Wait a minute, look--we'’ve got a birth!"

George heaved. Liquid came up between labored breaths. Tissue poured from his quivering mouth and quickly sprung to new life. The mass flopped about on the floor, tore in several places, and then took flight. The newborn creature disappeared into the cavern.

"“Wow! Will you look at the lungs on that guy!"” Jarrod stood on his chair and spun around to see his inhuman audience, but he got no reaction.

The Sherriff twitched and sputtered.

"Son of a--"” David tried to fight through his own pain.

"You're going to do that ... to all of us?"” asked Scoot. She inched towards Jarrod as he spun on his chair. Human or not, she intended to stab him when the moment was right. Too much ground to cover, she thought.

"“Oh no, that'’s not my trick. You'’ve seen mine." He pointed up.

"“I don'’t understand!"

"Because you haven'’t met the big daddy yet."

Behind Jarrod, something in the darkness shifted. Something easily as big as the tunnel that held it.

"Behold, Bavolis!"

"What--"”

Bavolis leaned forward on four arms the size of buildings, rotten hands tipped with enormous black claws. Wrapped in numerous layers of stained cloth, the beast upset thousands of insects with each movement. They danced between the folds of its garb. Its putrid face sat shadowed beneath a ragged hood, but one of its milky eyes seemed to shine with unholy light. Its stench, one of life born from death, filled the chamber. Scoot cringed.

"“Never smelled a god before?"” asked Jarrod.

David sprung to his feet and charged the dwarf, but Jarrod was too fast. The smaller man winced once again, eyes closed. and the ground beneath David'’s feet transformed. Rock buzzed away in a living black spray and David fell several feet into the cored stone.

"“David!" Scoot followed David's lead; she sprinted to the tiny man and sank her blade into Jarrod's gut.

"Bitch!" he screamed, and backhanded her with inhuman force. Scoot tumbled backwards and nearly passed out when her head struck stone. The creatures became agitated, filling the chamber with their hideous cries. Jarrod seemed unconcerned about his new wound.

"You shouldn't have made me do that. Now he's angry with both of us--you'’re special to him, you see. You'’re going to give birth to a mother."”

Scoot tried to focus the giant female creatures through cloudy eyes, gasped, and looked away. She placed the edge of her butcher knife against her throat and prepared to do the unthinkable.

Suddenly, a gunshot. Now wide-eyed, Scoot scanned the chamber. The dwarf had fallen from his chair, a red spatter beneath his right eye and a pool of blood leaking from the back of his head. She checked for David, but only saw the backside of his axe arching up from the hole as he tried to hook an edge to pull himself out.

George.

The sheriff suffocated, smile on his face and gun in his hand.

Bavolis roared with rage. Every one of its children cowered into whatever crack or cave they could find. The flies began to disperse from their vortex above and then reform on the tumor creatures. The grotesque "“mothers"” wailed as the insects pierced their flesh. The creatures had extreme reactions to the flies; skin swelled and burst open. The smaller beasts tried to flee, but were too slow to escape their fates. The chamber filled with ravenous buzzing.

"David! We have to get out of here!"” She reached into the hole and helped him climb out, though the large man did most of the work himself. He was still suffering.

"“I'’m done, Scoot. I can feel it. I can'’t hold it in much longer."”

Bavolis screamed at them in a thousand unknown languages with thousand different voices at once, and then spun back into its cave. It left behind a trail of parasitic life. Maggots wriggled helplessly on the floor while clouds of lice dispersed.

"“Look, it'’s leaving ... and the other ones are all dying! We can do this, David. We can get out of here!"

"“Like hell it'’s leaving. They're not getting away with this. They are not!"” David readied his axe and then charged into the black cavern after the beast.

"“David! David."” No time for this, she thought, you have to get out.

Scoot grabbed George'’s flashlight and his gun, though she wasn'’t sure if she could figure out how to use the latter. Around her, masses of cancerous life howled out their dying gibberish as they were swarmed. A few flies harassed her as she fled, but for the most part they were more interested in the exposed meat of the creatures. The swarm sped ahead of her through the carved tunnel. She hoped the flies would slay the creatures outside as well.

When she finally surfaced, Scoot witnessed the death of the city. The few remaining structures dissolved into insect and roads crisscrossed an empty landscape. Here and there a fence might still stand, or a tree remained untouched, but ultimately, Belldover had been removed from Kansas.

Trucks were already beginning to appear on the horizon. The black walls had dispersed, granting rescue workers a newfound courage to investigate.

Scoot caught a lift back to the main staging area of the operation, but spoke very little. When asked, she feigned amnesia, at least until she could get her head together. She would be questioned, almost certainly detained, but there was something she needed to deal with first. It still pulsated beneath her breast.

Scoot composed herself, removed the emergency blanket they'd wrapped around her, and walked right into the crowd with full confidence. Still in her fire suit, she went unnoticed. It wasn't long before she was able to commandeer one of the fire department's pickup trucks.

She sped away from Belldover'’s corpse, eventually exiting the highway and pulling onto a wooded back road. Once she located a spot where she'’d have privacy beneath the trees, she parked. She removed the butcher knife from her belt and placed it on the seat next to her. With trembling, bloody hands, Scoot began to unbutton her shirt.