Caterpillar - A Horror Story

Caterpillar: A Horror Story by William G. Tedford

Copyright © 2007 by William G. Tedford -All rights reserved-

Prologue

M

ary Sue knocked at the wood frame to Rex’s Logan’s hut of woven grass. She flashed a bright smile. “Hey, there, deputy. How’s it going?” Rex looked up from his stack of memoirs. He set his pen aside to attend the pleasant distraction. The pen was a hollow reed, the ink made from weed sap and ground charcoal, and the paper a crude, kiln-dried wood pulp. A piece of slate balanced on a wood stump constituted his desk, all stone-age versions of a lost twenty-first century technology. He smiled a bit wearily at the woman, his personal benefactor since his arrival in the village less than a week ago. “This is worse than writing accident reports.” “Every little bit helps.” The record of his entire life and all the skills and knowhow of a career in law enforcement? An hour a day for the rest of his life, to be sealed in resin for future posterity? “I suppose.” “We’re expecting a release this evening, number forty-4-

Caterpillar: A Horror Story - William G. Tedford

six.” She drew closer and lay a crude map of the garden before him. A forefinger pointed out the plant in question represented by one of several columns of numbers. “Can you take care of it for us?” “All by myself?” Rex said doubtfully. “We have a group of shy nomads camping just outside the village. One of them has an wrought iron ax and an obsidian knife.” Rex raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? How’d they manage that?” She smiled bright as the sun, a former stressed office manager of a New York investment firm flourishing in the forest setting of their new world. “I don’t imagine it was much of a challenge for a Lockheed aeronautical engineer with all the mineral wealth and meteoric iron lying about. Robert is positively orgasmic. He wants his most alluring ladies on hand to try to seduce them into joining us. That includes me, of course, which leaves you to help with the release. I wouldn’t trust any of the others. They don’t have your fortitude.” “What if our release is a woman? She’ll freak, Mary Sue.” Mary Sue gave a heavy sigh of empathy. “It’s never an easy time, but you’re a very nice man, Mr. Logan. You have a pleasant and friendly face. You’ve attended your share of releases and they disturb you less than most of the rest of us.” “Mary Sue, they most certainly disturb me.” “They don't give you nightmares. You don't panic. You can walk through the gardens at night. Few of us can manage that even during the day.” Most of the village, Rex reminded himself, still suffered the trauma of their own release. Most had been taken unaware by the caterpillars and knew nothing of the decimation of humanity. They had simply spewed forth into this strange new world to fend for themselves as best they could, oblivious to how their lives had ended on Earth, or their reason for being here. -5-

Caterpillar: A Horror Story - William G. Tedford

Even Rex didn’t remember exactly how he had been taken by the caterpillars or the insectile angels of death that had followed. He had thought the danger ended. Doc had died. He had been standing over Caitlin, host to one of the dead caterpillars, prepared to fulfill her last wish rather than see her suffer the agony of hunger that only her caterpillar could have satiated. He had put a gun to her head, but his memory had ended at that very moment. Most of the village had no idea of the magnitude of the miracle the resurrections represented, which is why it was far less a horror to Rex that this should be happening to humanity. He had assumed that humanity was being rendered extinct. Instead, it had been moved out of harm’s way. Who could possibly have guessed what was happening? Robert had helped him figure it out in hindsight. The caterpillars and the angels of death to which they had metamorphosed had in some inexplicable manner recorded not only the DNA structures of their victims, but their very neurological structure as well, their memories and personalities. Rex had witnessed the decimation of humanity first hand, but it had been the stars going out in the night sky, and the haze around the moon, and the brilliance of the northern lights that had forewarned of what was really happening. The sun, on its two hundred and fifty million year journey around the core of the galaxy, had passed through a dense cloud of interstellar dust and gas. It was doubtful if any of the sun’s planets had survived the transition unscathed. Atmosphere’s would have been stripped away, orbits degraded by friction, sending at least the closest of the inner worlds spiraling into the fiery maul of the sun, perhaps Earth itself, although the sun would have emerged from the cloud burning brighter than ever. Somebody, some god-like presence in the universe, had -6-

Caterpillar: A Horror Story - William G. Tedford

intervened to salvage a doomed ecology, not just one intelligent species, although it had started with humanity, but apparently every last one of them, transplanted to a new and safe harbor. This was another world entirely, in some distant corner of creation. Millions of years may have passed since Earth’s demise, or even billions. Mary Sue’s smile grew mischievous, snapping him back to matters at hand. “It’s a godsend for a helpless woman to have someone on hand, you know, even a man. There was nobody for me.” “Pretty rough?” “Immediately afterwards, very rough. Then I thought I had died and gone to heaven it was so nice here, at least until I got the runs eating too many berries.” “A man would have helped with that?” That triggered a burst of laughter. “Well, no, but once things settle down, having a few young and healthy males around helps to take care of at least one of life’s evil little necessities.” “Evil little necessities?” Rex said with mock outrage. Mary Sue gave a nonchalant shrug, equally feigned. “Hunting down innocent bunny rabbits for dinner. What could you possibly have thought I meant?” Rex knew what she had meant. Mary Sue had been hinting for several days, not for herself, but for the younger girls eager to pair off with a male companion. He had been pegged as a prime candidate, but had been reluctant to select a partner too hastily. Her smile faded as she kicked into serious mode. “How long are you going to hold out for Caitlin?” she said gently. “Is that what I’m doing?” “We’re all doing it to one degree or another, waiting for family members and friends to show up, hoping they will sooner or later. It hasn’t happened even once so far, not that -7-

Caterpillar: A Horror Story - William G. Tedford

I’ve heard about. If Caitlin is living even fifty miles from here, you may never see her again, not until a few horses make an appearance and we get telegraph wires strung. That won’t happen in our lifetime. Most groups aren’t as well organized as ours. I don’t imagine too many will be founded by a former accountant of a law firm.” Rex understood. The odds of ever seeing Caitlin again were insurmountable. She could be anywhere. Mary Sue handed him a folded modesty garment, a crude cotton cloth of uncertain durability. “She’ll need this. Or he.” Rex chuckled. “Bikinis were bigger than that.” “You’ll complain?” Rex raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, especially if she’s an Arabic-speaking, six and a half foot stud. I’ll be in a world of hurt.” Mary Sue let the humor slide and pointed out a curious mystery they had all noticed. “Odd we don’t get more of a ethnic balance.” She shook off her concern. “But that'll have to do until we’re up to catching more little bunnies.” Rabbit pelts helped with the clothing crisis. Mary Ann wore a two piece outfit that looked quite nice on her sleek and tanned body. Local wild rabbit populations had been on the decline until a number were caught and a breeding program instigated. It would be another few months before domestic production provided all the rabbit meat and pelts the village needed, but item by item, the village was becoming selfsufficient. As for Mary Sue’s observation, the local population spoke English, implying that groups elsewhere, assuming they existed, consisted of individuals of other cultural and ethnic backgrounds. It hinted at trouble in paradise as the disparate populations eventually encountered one another. Had humanity matured enough to avoid racial and ethnic conflict a second time around? Rex refused to hazard a guess, although -8-

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his own associates seemed to be surprisingly ecologyconscious, hinting that they had indeed brought along some of the maturity and wisdom of a lost civilization. As for the risk of attending the bizarre birth of a male rather than a female, it had never been a factor to consider. Just under half the releases were male, and the most tragic were the elderly, the injured, or the ill, regardless of gender, those whose chances of survival in the new world were nil, just as the most satisfying releases were those of infants and children who adapted surprisingly well to the trauma, or were entirely oblivious to it. Rex surrendered. “Okay, I’ll do it. You go get that aeronautical engineer for Robert.” “And maybe for me,” she said with a smile. With a farewell wiggle of fingers, she turned and left. Rex set the cloth aside and began to wrap his writing supplies in water-proof leaves and tucking them away in case of rain. He slung his bow over his back, tucked two flint-tipped arrows into his waist-band of his own rabbit-skin loincloth and headed alone into the woods, away from the campfires and the excited chatter of human voices. Dusk had settled in. It would be dark soon. He kept an eye out for the raccoon someone had reported seeing. No potential predators of human beings had made a showing as yet. Hopefully, according to Robert, species were being introduced to their new environment in such a manner as to maintain a balance of predator and prey. It was an aspect of the dissolution of Earth that no human eye had seen. Humans had been taken first. The rest of the biosphere had apparently followed. When human populations stabilized, Robert theorized that white tail deer would make an appearance first, a food source, and then cattle and horses, hopefully. Predators would come last to stabilize the populations of their prey. Nobody was -9-

Caterpillar: A Horror Story - William G. Tedford

looking forward to bears and mountain lions, or venomous snakes and possibly bacteria and viruses responsible for the ills and misery humanity had suffered down through the ages. Nobody had any reason to believe they would not be included in the reconstruction of the ecology of a lost world. It would have to be a balanced ecology to survive. Once among the field of purple pods transplanted from the wilderness, he counted down rows, sought out plant fortysix and sat cross-legged a safe distance away. They still reminded him of over-sized pumpkin plants with their profusion of large, waxy leaves and sprawling ground vines, although it was the enormous eight-foot-long purple pod that held his attention. Fireflies transformed the glade into an arena of glitter and magic. His stark fear of this place had diminished, but its eerie atmosphere never would, not for as long as he lived. A prominent and deeply unsettled part of his mind did not want to accept that these plants were growing people from seeds contained in a steady rain of meteorites falling from space, and not just any people, but people who had once lived elsewhere in the universe, complete with memories of their previous lives and their every physical blemish and flaw, including the aging that had been sampled by the caterpillars on their deathbeds, orphaned infants, and mothers-to-be nine months pregnant. Soon, it was speculated that the entire human population would be restored, at least those taken by the caterpillars, although relatively few would survive the initial trauma of relocation. Only the strong and healthy would repopulate this world. But only people pods were purple, like the one before him. Of all the pods growing over the face of new Eden, these were particularly sacred. Rex lay back in the soft grass and watched the green meteors spear the evening sky in their trails of sparks and fire, waiting patiently with nothing better to do, - 10 -

Caterpillar: A Horror Story - William G. Tedford

and nothing more important to be done in this quiet and peaceful Eden. A jolt galvanized him to alertness in the dusk light, the typical electric shock conducted through the moist earth that set the mature body within the pod to convulsing. The convulsion ruptured the pod, and without any warning at all, the gleaming body of a choking and gasping naked girl dropped to the grass at his side, floundering in her pool of amniotic fluid. Remembering his own awakening, he expected to see her curl into a fetal ball and retreat from the overwhelming shock of rebirth, but she was young and scrambled into his arms with lightning reflexes. Hot and soft and very wet, she held desperately tight, trembling violently, moaning in low-keyed panic with her face buried in the crook of his neck. Self-consciously, Rex embraced her. Young, he decided, hardly more than a child. She reminded him of Caitlin with the same lean body and ingenuous trust of an older male in her moment of crisis. She cried out and dug her fingernails into the flesh of his back, remembering the horror of the caterpillars and the nightmare of death they had wrought through the cities and countryside. She may even have been the host of a caterpillar. Rex suspected this to be the case when her trauma intensified to full-blown hysteria before it abated. Her screams pierced the glade and echoed through the forest. The inhabitants of the village engaged in negotiations with the newcomers a mile and a half away all looked around knowingly, but with grim satisfaction. This was a world of rebirth, the mirror image of the world of their origin, a world of destruction. And it was a world of healing. In time, the girl saw that no immediate danger threatened. Acutely aware now of being naked in the arms of a - 11 -

Caterpillar: A Horror Story - William G. Tedford

complete stranger, a scantily-clad man at that, she grew selfconscious and pulled away, but without daring to relinquish her grip on his arms. Dark brown eyes darted about his face and saw enough tenderness and understanding to conclude she was in safe hands, knowing hands, and hands willing to help. Cloaked by the twilight and soothed by the primal beauty of the fireflies and the over-sized moon in the star-dusted sky, she gave a very deep sigh and laid her head upon his shoulder. He gave her another moment to collect herself. Before they reached the village, she would see the second moon rise into the night sky and know beyond questioning that the horrors of her old life had been left far behind her, although she would need her strength to cope with the unknowns and challenges of her new existence. Only then did other and more personal thoughts intrude. She was pretty. She had Caitlin’s youthful spark of untamed independence. She would not replace Caitlin, but if she would have him, she would honor Caitlin’s memory until the intensity of his grief managed to fade. In time, maybe he would forget that he had never told Caitlin how much, and how desperately, he had loved her. Given another moment, he would have said what needed saying before it was too late. And then it had been too late. His world had ended one brief moment too soon. When the girl began looking around at her immediate environment in mounting curiosity, he helped her to her feet and turned her quickly away from the ruptured pod from which she had emerged. It would be enough this quiet evening for her to deal with two moons among the stars and the welcoming strangers of the village. The rest could wait until morning, and for all the bright and clear mornings yet to come.

- 12 -

One

L

ate on a warm and sunny afternoon, amidst the dreamy buzzing of late summer locusts, Connie Danielson drew herself a hot bath and told herself she needed a cold shower. Age twenty-six was, after all, a bit old for throwing temper tantrums. Brighton County Deputy Sheriff Rex Logan, thirty years of age, six lean, muscular feet in height, had gotten his before leaving for his evening shift. All she had gotten, as usual, was loads of self-imposed aggravation. Connie stepped naked into the warm water, eased herself down into its comforting embrace, and sighed, considering the circumstances, contentedly. Her intent had been to butter him up, lull him into a sense of complacency, and then nag him about applying for the well-paying position waiting for him on the Pittsburgh Police Department. Rex had taken advantage of the buttering. He had smiled tolerantly at her lecture. He had showered and dressed and with infuriating equanimity had gone out the front door - 13 -

Caterpillar: A Horror Story - William G. Tedford

without saying a word, leaving in his wake her well-rehearsed speech deteriorated to an frustrated tirade. His smile did it, like an impenetrable wall of marshmallows. It was the one thing about him that infuriated her to absolute distraction. Connie sighed and closed her eyes. Only very slowly did the tub of warm water and hissing suds soothe her simmering anger. She berated herself for letting it get the best of her. Rex’s condescending attitude irked her, but he’d dump her in a hot second if she pressed too hard. Abandonment was, after all, her greatest fear. He’d leap into the willing arms of the sheriff’s stepdaughter now that the dreaded day of Caitlin’s coming-of-age was upon her at last. The air-headed back-hills beauty had an eye for Rex, and Connie knew better than to underestimate the effect the supple body of the eighteen-year-old had on the men of Brighton Hollow. She couldn’t let that happen. Life without the deputy sheriff would be hell on earth. Without his stabilizing influence, she’d start sleeping around again, and she knew by longstanding experience how much happiness and security that would bring her. “Watch yourself, girl,” she murmured to the stillness. Okay, so she’d make it up to him in the morning. She’d withdraw her ultimatum and conduct a subtler guerrilla campaign to steer Rex clear of his dead-end career in Brighton County. Caitlin could turn an eye with her skimpy cotton dresses and her nubile young body, but her own finely-honed skills at catering to the carnal hungers of the men in her life had to count for something. Her fears of losing Rex were groundless, or at least exaggerated. She chuckled in the deathly quiet of the house. Besides, Sheriff Leon Biggs would shoot anyone messing with his alluring stepdaughter, Brighton County deputies included. - 14 -

Caterpillar: A Horror Story - William G. Tedford

Especially his trusted deputies, and particularly the one he knew had the young wench’s hormones sizzling. Rex would never dare risk incurring wrath of that magnitude. A smile lingered on her pursed lips. Having convinced herself that she’d be ultimately victorious, she finally managed to relax. A peaceful interlude should have followed. Instead, something else entirely happened. Outside, as if fate had waited for one crisis to run its course before inflicting another, the buzz of the late summer locusts ceased. Complete silence closed in upon her like an invisible fist. Connie’s eyes flew open to the eerie silence. A crackling sound emerged from the silence, growing swiftly in intensity. “What the hell?” A report like a gunshot fired on both sides of her head sent pain stabbing through her ears. Faster than the human eye could follow, an object shot through the ceiling and struck the rim of the tub. Cast iron split wide. With a sound like the gong of a bell, her bathwater emptied through the fissure opening beneath her. The ceiling of the bathroom blew inward in the wake of the object. A rain of wood slivers and plaster exploded downward and stung her exposed body from head to foot. An attic floor joist followed the rain of debris and slammed with stunning force across the fractured tub just above her midsection. Blinded by billowing clouds of dust, Connie floundered. She painfully rattled elbows and knees against the broken slabs of enameled iron. When her groping fingers encountered something solid to hold to, she pulled herself frantically away from the destruction. An unexpected barrier of heat blocked her way. She blinked away the dust in her eyes, then stared down in - 15 -

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confusion at a smoldering object lying at her feet. Its utter strangeness more than the heat it radiated held her at bay. Shards of coal-like material glowed red hot and hissed in the bathwater soaking through plaster dust. An object looking for all the world like an over-sized oyster had been encased in the black coating. The casing had shattered during its brutal entry into her home as had the oyster itself. Upon the halves of this interior object, a thick white frost formed and crackled with an intense cold that soaked the heat from skin heated an instant before. Ice and incandescence sent a chill of dread through her unprotected flesh. She recognized this object as a thing from beyond the sky. Between the shell halves, a gray and mortally wounded organic mass writhed. The living substance bled green blood and screamed in a high-pitched keening. A gray, snake-like appendage tipped with a black talon rose quivering into the air. Connie tried to sidestep the horror. The creature sensed movement and struck out at her with a blur of motion. The talon stabbed her on the inside thigh of her right leg. With a shriek of terror, she lunged the rest of the way past the quivering mass, tripped over the fallen joist from overhead, and fell face down through the door frame to the carpeted bedroom floor. Pain spread from the point at which the talon had stung her flesh. A violent trembling shook her body. She pushed herself to her hands and knees, looked down at herself, and saw that the talon had broken free and embedded itself in her skin. She flicked the talon aside in revulsion. Sensing that the sting had been venomous, she resolutely focused her remaining strength on crawling to safety. Her intent was to crawl on hands and knees until she cleared the house entirely. She feared it may have caught fire. The thought of being trapped naked inside a burning house terrified her beyond words. Instead, she managed five or six - 16 -

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feet before a strange lethargy engulfed her and sent her toppling helplessly to one side. Unable to rise again, she reached for the phone cord dangling off the night stand. An index finger snagged the coiled wire. She tugged and the handset and the base struck alongside her head and bounced in opposite directions. Connie extended a shaking arm for the handset with gritted teeth, engulfed in a fog of terror. The last of her strength drained away before she reached it, and then consciousness itself. Her sigh, too, faded away in the deathly silence. Behind her, the injured organism so cruelly expelled from the security of its shell pulled itself through its own oozing body fluids. It reached and stretched with single-minded hunger toward the warm body it sensed lying so close at hand.

- 17 -

Two

L

eon Biggs, Sheriff of Brighton County, started drinking his cheap whiskey early in the afternoon. He wandered the house with a scowl, taking covert slugs from the bottle he carried when he thought no one was looking. Caitlin saw it happening. The eighteen-year-old sneaked out the back way as soon as she could escape unnoticed. She fled into the summer afternoon with every intention of making herself scarce until her stepfather drank himself into oblivion. Only then would it be safe to go home for the night. Or at least it would be safe for the early part of the night. In the dark hours of too many mornings, the floorboards creaked, and Leon Biggs had a habit of opening doors he had no business opening. Caitlin selected one of her favorite trails leading into the Appalachian forest surrounding Brighton Hollow. Sun sparkled through the trees in the sleepy September afternoon. The dirt - 18 -

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path felt smooth and cool beneath her bare feet, broadened and packed by herself and the deer of the forest for more than a decade of her young life. This particular path circled back to Brighton Hollow and passed behind a pasture where a thoroughbred colt or two grazed during the spring. So late in the season, the pasture had turned to weed, and the horses were kept closer to stables that were forbidden to her. Beyond the pasture lay the streets and tiny, asbestos-clad houses of Brighton Hollow. A small rusty water tower marked the block-long and largely empty business district. Alongside ran the blacktop highway known as Troll Valley Road. Few townspeople ventured into the afternoon heat. The beige pickup driving a side street on the other side of the field caught her attention, if for no other reason, and triggered a moment of bright alarm. The dreaded Rather brothers drove a truck of that color. It was at that moment she saw the shooting star burst into incandescence far overhead. It fell leisurely, burning green and spewing gray smoke and sparkles of bright white as it came. Closer and closer it approached, transversing the sky with a roar of thunder. She screamed when she thought for an instant that it might strike in very spot where she stood, but it thundered over her head in a flash of light and fell beyond the trees. She heard it hit with a dull whumping sound. She didn’t see exactly where it hit, but she marked the spot on the horizon where it had vanished from view and raced across the open field with every intent to find out. Overjoyed by the magnificence of the spectacle, she all but ran into the waiting arms of the Rather brothers. The pickup had been theirs after all. They had parked and casually scaled the barbed-wire fence bordering the pasture to cut her off. Facing the wrong direction, they hadn’t seen the shooting star fall. - 19 -

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Of all the dangers she had ever faced roaming the wilderness about town, the Rather brothers were the worst by far. Caitlin paused in her headlong flight, her mind a sudden cold void of feral alertness. If she turned and ran, she could easily outdistance the two, although if they did catch her alone in the forest by some fluke of luck, her fate would be sealed. It would be safer, she decided, to face them down here on the edge of town. “Hey, Caitlin!” Earl Rather called out. “Where you going in such a big hurry?” Earl was the more dangerous of the two. Morris was larger and younger, but a lot dumber. It was Earl she had to contend with. If she could bluff the greater challenge, Morris would be no problem. “You get out of my way, Earl Rather!” she called back. “My father won’t wait for a trial to have you hanged if you so much as touch me!” Earl glanced at his bigger brother with a mocking grin. “Damn, Morris, she’s a feisty one, ain’t she?” And then to Caitlin: ”Where you running to in such a big hurry, Caitlin? You look like you seen a grizzly in those hills of yours.” “Behind you, you dope!” Caitlin cried. “I saw a shooting star! It was green and it hit something in town! You at least heard it! I know you did!” Earl looked around at the silhouette of houses and trees against the dying light on the horizon. She could see that her story totally failed to register with the boy. He shrugged his lack of interest and turned back to her with his own agenda showing in his crooked grin. “What do you say we get it together, Caitlin, just you and me? Nobody else has the balls to mess with Biggs’ baby, which means you gotta be one lonesome girl.” He said it without belligerence, and there was a certain truth in his revolting observation. Leon had never allowed her - 20 -

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to date. Regardless, Caitlin wasn’t about to be seduced by a boy as coarse and butt ugly as a wart hog. Never had she ever bothered to explain that she wasn’t really a Biggs, but a Kingsley, not that it mattered what anyone in Brighton Hollow thought her name to be. Caitlin drew as close as she dared. She faked him with a lurch to the right, then darted to the left. With so much at stake, Earl gave it all he had, but she was quicker and more agile than he. And he leaped in the wrong direction to boot. He did manage to catch the edge of her shift with a finger, tearing the seam below her right armpit an inch or two. Morris Rather, too, lunged to cut her off, but with all the speed and grace of a sloth. Caitlin sidestepped the clumsy boy with ease, leaped the barbed wire, and looked back in time to see Morris snag his pants and fall face down into the weeds. She couldn’t resist a triumphant chortle. “Way to go, fatso!” “We’ll get you, Caitlin!” Morris Rather bellowed. “Sooner or later! Just you wait and see!” Caitlin shuddered at the thought. Unsettled by both the green shooting star and her encounter with the Rather brothers, she cut through the sparse residential neighborhood to the sheriff’s substation. She went in the back way knowing it was the one place in town she wasn’t supposed to go, but by far the safest. Inside, the air was musky. The air-conditioner, she remembered, was on the blink, as was one of the overhead fluorescents in the back of the office. Sheriff’s Deputy Rex Logan turned in his squeaky chair and rose worriedly to his feet from behind his desk. “Caitlin?” Rex was a big man, a foot taller than herself and built like a football player. Her heart did a little flutter every time she saw him, and she always took advantage of these rare - 21 -

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moments alone to indulge herself. She walked boldly up to him, deliberately approaching a little too closely for comfort. The thrill was delicious. She clasped her hands behind her back, and beamed a coy smile straight up at him. “Don’t worry,” she assured him. “Nobody will catch us. Leon’s drinking. He started early this afternoon.” “You know better than to come here,” Rex said in his deep and mellow voice. “He’s never so drunk that the eyes in the back of his head are closed.” Caitlin mocked indignation. She put the torn strap of her shift back on her shoulder. “I’m not here to bother you, Rex Logan. I saw a shooting star. It hit right in the middle of town somewhere. I heard it.” “You’ll get me fired, Caitlin.” She smiled at his discomfort. She gazed into his hazel eyes, partly to gloat over the way she unsettled him and partly to drink in the beauty of the man. “I turned eighteen last Thursday,” she reminded him. “I can do what I want. And I’m not illegal anymore, you know.” Rex sighed in exasperation. “Don’t make no difference. Leon will have my hide if he catches you here. He’ll damned well have yours too, as long as you’re living in that house of his.” An unpleasant memory distracted her momentarily. “I heard him talking to Vivian about that job of yours in Pittsburgh. Are you going to leave me?” “That’s personal business, Caitlin. You keep it to yourself.” “Are you?” Rex sighed and shook his head worriedly. “No, I don’t think I’m going. I don’t like big cities. Which makes it all the more important that Leon not catch you here. He’ll get the wrong idea entirely, and I’ll damned well take the heat.” “If you do go, I’ll go with you,” she whispered - 22 -

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confidentially, her ears burning with shame that she could be so daring. “If you and Connie are still bickering, that is.” “Caitlin, Connie and I are always bickering, but even if we broke up, I couldn’t take you with me to the city. You were born and raised in these hills. You’d be eaten alive in Pittsburgh.” There was no point in arguing, not until she had gathered the courage to slip past his defenses some quiet evening and sacrifice her virginity to him. No way was he going to believe her story of a green meteor. She had visited him on past occasions with far more believable excuses. Once too often, she had cried wolf. She blinked back a tear born of hurt feelings. “So, what’s going to happen to me if you leave? The Rather brothers bothered me again. So will Leon, if he ever sets his mind to it. I can see it in his eyes when he gets drunk, and he’s pawed me enough times. You know how he’s been with my Aunt Vivian.” “Your Aunt can move out if she’s being mistreated, Caitlin. She’s a grown woman. And as for accusing your father...” “My stepfather,” she spat gently. “Granted, your stepfather. Just don’t be making accusations you can’t back up, because trouble will just come right back at you.” Caitlin despaired his stubborn resistance. “I did see a shooting star, Rex Logan. It was green, and it hit somewhere about.” Rex frowned. “I heard something, but I’d have a hard time believing a green meteor. If it hit in town, go find it and I’ll take a look. Otherwise, I think it’s just a ruse to visit. I truly don’t mind your visits, Caitlin. It’s just...” He shrugged awkwardly. “I know.” She blinked the rest of her tears away without making an effort to wipe them away. “But you know how I feel - 23 -

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about you. And I see you looking back. I’m prettier than Connie, and if Leon wasn’t so mean, you’d be nicer to me.” Rex stuffed his hands in his pockets and stared at the floor. “I wouldn’t want to say one way or another, Caitlin. It’s just not relevant to the way things are. I’m sorry.” A final cooperative tear fell on cue and trickled down the side of her face. “That’s not going to work on me, Caitlin. Go home.” She felt the loose strap to her shift slip. She let it slip down her arm as far as it wanted to go. “Please, go home,” he said softly. She would have defied him, except she had no clear idea of what she wanted from him in that particular moment. She had no experience with men. But Rex Logan had become an unidentifiable hunger reaching up from the very bottom of her soul. Any day now, she was just going to come straight out and tell him that she loved him desperately. “Caitlin, go home!” Rex roared in mounting frustration and anger. Caitlin turned and fled the building. She stopped in the middle of the street to sob briefly in a bout of frustration and self-pity. Except for the Rather brothers, she meant nothing to nobody. She had turned eighteen, but nobody treated her like an adult. Aunt Vivian thought her a nuisance. Leon wanted to put his hands on her body. Rex was too scared to try. But she had seen the shooting star. She could vindicate herself if she could find it. A piece of rock fallen from the stars would justify another visit to the substation. While Leon was getting drunk, she and Rex would go out alone into the hills to investigate her discovery. It was a lovely and promising fantasy. She dried her eyes and hurried away to fulfill it as best she could.

- 24 -

Three

T

he shooting star had fallen to the left of the giant black oak growing in the cemetery at the far edge of town and somewhere just beyond. The cemetery was a ten minute dash on foot cutting through yards and leaping fences, but once she stood with the oak tree to her back, the nondescript wall of trees gave no further clue for her to follow. If the shooting star had fallen into the forest, she would never find it. A blacktop led out of town in that direction, she remembered. Connie Danielson lived out that way, too, in fact. All summer long she had resisted the temptation to spy on Connie and Rex. Now would be the ideal opportunity to at least take a peak at the house they shared together. Caitlin cut through empty lots overgrown with trees. With the day’s last few stray beams of sunlight filtering through the trees and the soft blacktop warm to her bare feet, she jogged a half mile along the road without seeing anything - 25 -

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of the fallen shooting star. Approaching the last house on the road, Connie’s house with her little red Nissan parked in front, her courage failed her. Connie would report her to Leon if she was seen, so she stopped short of the final bend in the road. Because of Rex, this was a place forbidden to her. Stabs of despair bled dry the last of her futile dreams. The shooting star for all the excitement it had promised had come to nothing. The peaceful afternoon became an empty void bereft of any hint of opportunity. Before she turned away, though, she noticed a funny thing about the house just visible through the trees. It seemed to be crooked. Frowning, Caitlin stepped absently closer to investigate the strange trick of the light. Hackles rose along her back. The front wall of the house leaned inward. A section of the roof had buckled, and Caitlin saw a gaping hole in the shingles and thin tendrils of smoke or dust curling skyward. “Oh, my God.” She hoped with sudden desperation that Connie Danielson had not been hurt. Rex would blame her. It was her very own shooting star that had done this awful thing. What else could it have been? Caitlin hurried to the front door of the ruined house and found it locked. “Connie, are you home?” She went around to the back. The kitchen door had been locked as well, but the frame was buckled. With some effort, she pushed the creaking door open on twisted hinges and stuck her head inside. “Connie? Miss Danielson?” Dust filled the inside of the kitchen. Rivulets of plaster fell from the cracked ceiling. Stressed wood groaned in the walls. The entire house seemed ready to cave in at any moment. - 26 -

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“Miss Danielson, please!” Caitlin cried between bouts of frantic coughing. Her voice sounded loud and shrill in the stillness. She crept through a short connecting hall to the living room. She turned to a bedroom beyond filled with dust. Easing herself across the intervening space, she stuck her head through the door frame. Daylight shown through a hole in the ceiling of a tiny bathroom filled with a jumble of broken wood and plaster. She didn’t have to venture as far as the bathroom to find Connie Danielson. Connie lay sprawled in clear view on the bedroom rug. She was naked and coated with plaster, looking for all the world like a fallen statue of marble. Connie’s nudity captivated her momentarily. She had never seen another woman’s body before, at least none so pretty as this, and this was the competition that stood between herself and Rex Logan. This was the body Rex made love to every day, probably anytime he wanted. The thought made her feel like the ignorant child she was. Connie was a woman, neither as ignorant nor as socially inept as herself, and hardly an inexperienced virgin. Was she dead? Caitlin watched a dust-coated breast and saw it move. Just barely, rising and falling. Trembling, she sidestepped to the bed. She dragged off the bedspread, shook out the dust, and covered Connie’s nakedness. She dared not touch. Then she turned to the phone scattered across the floor and put the receiver to her ear. The phone was filled with static, probably broken. She set it back down, dazed and indecisive. She didn’t want to leave Connie alone to go for help. Did she have a choice? Of what use would she be here? With a moan of dismay that so much responsibility had fallen upon her, Caitlin raced back through the ruined labyrinth of the house. She fled down the gravel drive and up - 27 -

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the warm blacktop. Her slender legs gobbled up the half mile to town. Her mind wrestled with a feeling of unreality washing over her. She had learned about shooting stars in school, but had never heard of one crashing into a house and hurting someone. Was it all a dream, a waking nightmare? If so, it was time to wake up, because she had been dreaming for longer than any night would have lasted. She paused at the edge of town to reconsider the wisdom of bursting in on Rex a second time in one afternoon. If he had ignored her account of a green meteor, how much less believable would be her story of a direct hit on Connie Danielson’s bathroom? Besides, she didn’t want to be associated with that terrible event. She felt guilty for ever having seen and reported the shooting star. So she ran home instead. She burst into the house screaming, “Connie Danielson’s house is on fire!” It was a lie, but she had no better description of events. Aunt Vivian came rushing from the kitchen with horrified expression on her gaunt, unattractive face. “Please get someone to help her!” Caitlin cried out. “She’s hurt!” Vivian turned to the staircase leading up to the bedrooms where Leon slept. Caitlin’s tone of voice went cold with warning. “Don’t wake him up. Rex is at the substation.” Vivian, too, thought better of waking a drunken Leon Biggs. She turned instead to the phone in the hall. She put the handset to her ear and poked at the buttons. She looked around, confused. “Why is there so much static on the line?” Caitlin shrugged her complete mystification. She had no explanation for why anything was happening. Vivian muttered a curse and rushed out the front door. It - 28 -

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was true that Leon habitually left the keys in the ignition of his car, but where did Vivian find the courage? Caitlin watched astonished from a side window as Vivian drove away with its red and blue lights flashing. The torn strap fell from her shoulder. Her mad dash to town had soaked her shift in sticky patches of sweat. Dirt caked her feet. She needed a shower and a change of clothing, but she glanced in trepidation up the staircase to the quiet second floor of the house. Being alone in the house with her stepfather was never a good idea. She risked it, creeping up the stairs to her bedroom, grimacing when her weight set a loose floorboard to creaking. Within the sanctuary of her bedroom, she shucked off the torn and soiled garment and showered, but left herself wet and naked to help cool herself off. She paused on her way to the dresser for needle and thread to mend the torn seam of her shift, comparing her sleek and tanned reflection in the fulllength mirror with her memory of the pale body sprawled across the bedroom floor of the ruined house. Which would Rex prefer should he have to choose between them? She knew for a fact that Rex wanted her. She had seen it in his eyes a thousand times since the day she had started her period, and the older she got, the more she ached for him to have his way with her. Connie knew the things men and women did together alone in the night. The animals in the hills had no objections to curious onlookers, and she had studied their mating behavior with astonished curiosity, wondering how much of it compared with human behavior. Still, she could only vaguely imagine how it would feel to have that done to her. She had no experience of her own. Rex would be loving and kind, she was certain, but physical sex seemed such a brutal act. Animals made it look like it hurt, except for the way their eyes glazed over and they stood so rigidly with their tongues stuck out. She - 29 -

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couldn’t imagine why they did it as much as they did if it caused so much pain. She wet her lips hopefully. What if it was so pleasurable that it only looked like it hurt? She suspected that to be the case. Either way, it made her weak in the knees to imagine what her first time was going to be like. She shoved the disquieting imagining from her mind and sat by the window to sew the torn seam. A diminishing sparkle of daylight filtered through the locust trees alongside the house. Fine patterns of leaves stood starkly dark against a purple sky laced with pink clouds. The undulating buzzing of the cicadas emptied her mind of unpleasant thoughts. A bedspring creaked from beyond her walls. She held her breath and sat perfectly quiet, not daring to make a sound. If Leon awakened, how long would it take for him to discover that the car was gone? He moved about in his room and muttered to himself on the way past her door. She let out a sigh of relief as his footsteps creaked down the staircase. A moment later, he roared in anger. The front door slam violently shut behind him. Caitlin put her hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle, imagining the gorilla of a man waddling down Troll Valley Road on foot. Once he was gone, a deeper peace returned to the house. She rose to her feet feeling perfectly secure in the deep summer afternoon. She selected a clean shift from her dresser drawer to drop over her otherwise naked body. Shadows moved in the bedroom. Caitlin looked around at the open window in time to see another green meteor streak across the afternoon sky. Her reaction to the first shooting star had been excitement. Now, dread crawled around inside her like a parasite. Something awful was happening. The feeling that she was dreaming persisted, except that no dream could be so real, and no nightmare had ever been so ominous. - 30 -

Four

D

eputy Sheriff Rex Logan looked up from his paper work in the back of the small, Brighton Hollow substation. Green light flickered through the gloom from outside. An instant later, the mystery was put on hold by a rack of flashing emergency lights pulling up in front. By the time he reached the front door to uncover the nature of the emergency at hand, it was clear that the driver behind the wheel of Biggs’ cruiser was neither Biggs nor one of the other county deputies. “Caitlin says Connie Danielson’s house is on fire!” Vivian cried out from behind the wheel of the cruiser. “She says Connie has been hurt!” Rex turned to his own car parked nearby. “Go back and wake up Leon!” he called over his shoulder. “Rex, he’s drunk!” “He’s never that drunk! I don’t have backup here in town!” - 31 -

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Rex set the car on a careening, tire-squalling course through town, wondering why Vivian hadn’t simply phoned. Regardless, he had only a mile to drive. He held his breath most of the way, wondering how Caitlin could have known about a fire at Connie’s house. What had she been doing out that way? What foolish thing had the girl gone and done now? A fire would have burned the house to the ground by now. Connie would be dead. He broad-slid into the gravel drive and struck the red Nissan a glancing blow, but saw no evidence of fire. Something else had happened. Something worse. Caitlin had reported a shooting star. Even he had heard a dull explosion echo in the quiet afternoon. She had told the truth after all. This was where it had hit. He leaped from the car hoping Caitlin’s report of Connie being hurt was no more accurate than her report of a fire. He shouldered his way through the front door, tearing it from its hinges in his desperation to get inside. Plaster dust caught in his throat and set him to coughing. He glanced once into the kitchen, then ducked into the bedroom and dropped to his knees the instant he spotted Connie sprawled on the floor. The bed sheet thrown over her was all the evidence he needed that Caitlin had been here after all. He jammed his fingers against the carotid artery an the side of Connie’s neck. Most of his panic subsided with the throb of a strong pulse. He yanked the bedspread aside and ran a hand over the familiar curves of the woman’s body in search of open wounds, then again for the characteristic bruising of broken bones or blunt injury. He found nothing evident to a superficial examination, but resisted the temptation to turn her over for a more thorough search. That was Doc Kaufman’s job. He risked a - 32 -

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gentle shake, though, hoping she had been no worse than stunned by falling debris. “Connie? Can you hear me?” She murmured. She opened her eyes and stared straight ahead, unblinking. He saw her pupils dilate evenly, assurance that she hadn’t sustained serious head injury. He leaned closer. “Connie, can you tell me what happened?” “Get it away from me,” she murmured. Her words were slurred, renewing his concern that she had been struck by falling debris. e glanced about the room, evaluating its structural integrity, then rose to his feet to search more thoroughly for the fire Caitlin had reported. He walked the circumference of the four ground floor rooms without encountering the telltale odor of smoke. He circled the house outside once for an exterior examination, then stopped at the car to call for help. He thumbed the mike several times and queried the dispatcher in Orange City without a reply. Static flooded every available channel. The communications black-out explained why neither Caitlin nor Vivian had phoned ahead, and maybe why his shift had been so eerily quiet for the past few hours. He mulled over the wisdom of leaving Connie unattended for the few minutes it would take to fetch Doc Kaufman in person. He had no other choice. He hurried back to his car and began a second high-speed, broad-sliding race back into town. Doc conducted his practice in an office built onto the side of his house. Rex went through the front door without knocking, calling out as he went and conducting a fast, nonstop search of the house until he caught Doc with his pants down in the most literal sense. “Connie’s been hurt,” Rex said, stepping back outside the bathroom and hoping his calm tone of voice would compensate - 33 -

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for his crass behavior. “She’s at the house. I didn’t want to move her.” “There is no rest for the wicked, of that I’m absolutely certain,” Doc murmured. “Sorry. Phones are out.” Dr. Kaufman left the bathroom buckling his pants. At age seventy-two, he looked as frail and worn as some of his eighty and ninety-year-old patients. Emphysema had taken a good portion of his lung capacity, and the mere effort to breath drained his energy. Regardless, the mind in that ruined body was quick and agile by any standard, and Doc was smarter and better educated than anyone in Brighton Hollow. Rex had long since learned to rely on the old sage on matters both personal and professional. Doc brushed past to fetch his black bag from his examination room. Rex met him at the front door and led the way to the car. Doc asked no questions during the short drive back to the damaged house. “You’ve not going to believe this,” Rex warned as he turned into the drive. “Hopefully,” Doc murmured. “Anything to break the monotony.” The car lurched to a stop. Doc studied the face of the house. His lower jaw dropped open. “Well, I’ll be damned.” Rex led the way inside. Connie hadn’t moved from where she lay on the bedroom floor. He stepped back to give Doc room to kneel at her side and begin his examination. “Caitlin said she saw a shooting star fall somewhere in town. A green one at that. I didn’t believe her.” Doc glanced up with a somber look. “I heard it, I suspect.” “I probably did, too.” Rex looked about and saw Caitlin’s bare footprints in the thick coating of plaster dust covering the - 34 -

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rug. “Caitlin found her first. She told Vivian the house was on fire.” Doc grinned. “Smart girl.” “Pain in the ass.” “It got you up off your butt quick enough, I’d say.” Connie groaned as Doc tugged and poked at her body. Rex took the opportunity to look over the damaged bathroom more thoroughly. His gaze settled on the split, yardlong shell. He shied in revulsion from what looked like the internal organ of a slaughtered animal lying between the halves. Spotting the broken talon or tooth of the creature’s snake-like appendage, he reassessed the cause of Connie’s stupor in an instant. She had been bitten or stung by something venomous. “Doc, you had better come here and take a look at this.” Responding to Rex’s monotone of dread, Doc stumbled to his feet and quietly pressed in from behind. He stared at the organic mass with an expression chiseled from stone. “Leon will have to call in the state authorities to deal with this,” the old man said. “Are you thinking the same thing I am?” Doc backed away to avoid a falling stream of plaster from overhead. “Everything is speculation at this point. A green shooting star, you say?” Rex studied the hole in the ceiling. The encrusted shell had punched a hole in both the roof and the ceiling, fracturing at least one ceiling rafter before striking and shattering the cast iron bathtub. The scene gave him a sinking sensation in his gut. Connie’s extraordinary brush with death was going to put Brighton Hollow on the map. Doc finished his preliminary examination, rose to his feet, and stepped back. “Carry her to the car, please.” Rex considered covering her nudity with the dusty bedspread, but decided it didn’t matter. Doc had seen her - 35 -

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naked the day she was born and was perfectly aware of the nature of their relationship. He scooped Connie’s one hundred and twenty pounds into his arms and carefully maneuvered her dangling legs and arms through the bedroom frame and front door. “Your place or County General?” he asked on the way out. “My office for starters.” Rex lay the woman on her side in the back seat of the car and used both sets of seat belts to secure her, one under and over her legs and the other about her chest and shoulders. Doc rode shotgun in front. Rex drove back to town at a conservative pace. “What did we see back there, Doc?” Doc shook his head and looked pale and stressed. “I’m not sure I want to know.” “It looks to me like she was bitten by that thing.” Doc glanced back at Connie. Rex could see her stirring in his rear view mirror. “I concur, but she seems to be coming around.” “Where the hell could it have come from?” The only hypothesis that came to mind outraged him, that the slug-like animal had been contained within the shell halves and buried within the carbon shell. It had been the green shooting star Caitlin had seen. Doc sighed wearily. “I have no idea, and it’s too early to make guesses.” Doc didn’t have a drive-way leading up to the house. Rex drove up the lawn, parked directly alongside the front door and hurried Connie into the bowels of Doc’s old and musty house before the neighborhood had the opportunity to investigate the commotion. He lay Connie at Doc’s request on an examination table in a back room. Doc switched on a brilliant overhead light. Connie’s body glared brilliant white with its coating of - 36 -

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dust. Rex watched Doc conduct a second and more thorough physical examination.“Maybe I see evidence of a puncture wound on the inside thigh,” Doc said. “Concussion may still be an explanation for the stupor. I can’t afford to guess.” Doc covered the girl with a sheet, propped her head with a pillow, and examined her scalp inch by inch for evidence of bruising. He spoke to the woman from time to time. Rex had thought her unconscious during the ride, but she murmured a response to Doc’s questioning, and the slur to her voice had subsided. Doc finally had Rex carry the girl to his bedroom. “Let her rest for now. Fetch her a fresh change of clothing. Let’s hope she’s up and about soon.” Rex sat at Connie’s side for a private word with the woman. Doc closed the door behind him on the way out. Connie blinked, trying to focus on him, but her eyes kept rolling up into her head. “You saw it,” she whispered. “It bit me.” Which confirmed his worst suspicion. “Don’t worry about it. It’s dead. How are you feeling?” “Like I’ve been fed morphine.” She smiled. “I broke my leg once when I was a kid, so I know what warm fuzzies feel like. Whatever Doc gave me isn’t helping matters any, either.” “Sleep it off. I’ll pick up a clean change of clothes and bring them over a bit later.” “I like my house, Rex. Can you fix it for me?” “We’ll worry about that later.” “Call work for me. Tell them I won’t be in.” Connie worked at a used car dealership in Orange City. With the phones out, Orange City was on the other side of the world. He gave the woman a reassuring squeeze of her hand, but she had already drifted to sleep. Rex backed from the room and closed the door gently behind him. “Find out why the phones are not working,” Doc said. “I - 37 -

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have elderly patients whose lives may depend upon a prompt emergency call.” Rex drove back to the substation wondering how he was expected to find out why the phones weren’t working if he had no open line to the phone company. Sheriff Biggs’ was at the substation when he arrived. Vivian stood off to one side with a handkerchief held to the side of her face, either to soak up tears or to soothe a blow to the face. Either was a possibility. Sheriff Leon Biggs paced the isle between the empty desks in an ugly mood. He glanced up at his deputy with a rheumy-eyed glare of warning to keep his opinions and comments to himself. Rex closed the outside door behind him and stood awaiting his orders. At sixty-two, Leon Biggs was squat and fat and harbored an expression of perpetual disdain for the world. His illconcealed impatience had held the unsavory social elements of Brighton County at bay for twenty long years, although he had been, at one time, a surprisingly compassionate man. Both Leon’s physical and emotional health had deteriorated since the death of Caitlin’s mother. His anger had become dangerously unpredictable, and Rex avoided it at all cost. “What’s happening?” the man growled in a deceptively calm tone of voice. Rex repeated the story of Caitlin’s shooting star and his discovery of the damaged house and Connie’s injuries. “We found something at the house you had better check into. Doc can fill you in better than I can.” “The phones are out,” Leon muttered. “And the radios,” Rex added. Leon grunted acknowledgment. “It’s gonna be a long night ahead. You up to a double shift?” “Whatever it takes.” “I’ll take Vivian home and check on Caitlin. You run over to Orange City and Cyprus Junction and get an update from - 38 -

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deputies Jenkins and Johnson face to face. There’s only the four of us to run the show in this neck of the woods, so tell them to stay put and deal with the situation until someone from the state bothers to lend us a hand. While you’re gone, I’ll check with Doc and help with any medical emergencies he may have with his diabetics or whatever. Does that sound satisfactory to you, son?” “Yes, sir, it does.” Leon grasped Vivian by her arm and steered her roughly out the door. Rex waited until they were gone, and then locked the substation behind him and drove back to Connie’s house. He located two suitcases in the bedroom closet and filled them haphazardly with a selection of clothing from the dressers. He surveyed the shattered roof before leaving, awed by the broken backbone of the house. How could he hope to fix it? How could a living organism have survived an impact so violent? Returning to Doc’s house, he knocked, but let himself in without waiting for a response. With the aroma of fresh coffee permeating the house, he went directly to the kitchen, set Connie’s suitcase in the middle of the room, and poured himself a mug. Doc entered the kitchen from his back rooms wiping his hands on a towel. “That was quick.” “How’s she doing?” “I’m satisfied that she has escaped serious injury. Her pulse and respiration are strong.” Rex sat at the kitchen table and sipped his coffee in gratitude. “I’ve got to check on Orville and Richard. Biggs will be over in a bit to do what he can. I didn’t give him any details on that organism we saw. You’ll have to show him before he’ll believe you.” Doc slipped into a seat across from him. “I would imagine so.” - 39 -

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“Biggs is getting too old to be the badass he thinks he is,” Rex said. “I thought you were going to talk to him about his drinking.” “I have. I think it more appropriate that we talk about your problems. I heard about that job of yours in Pittsburgh. You should take it, you know. Biggs doesn’t need help digging his own grave. You have no obligation to stick around to clean up the mess when he’s gone. Nobody’s going to thank you for it.” “So I’ve been told.” Doc ventured one of his rare smiles. “I take it your option will be the lesser of two evils, a backwater county with no future or a city a bit too big for comfort.” Doc had put his finger on his dilemma. Rex finished his coffee and climbed to his feet. “Gotta run. It’s been a wild afternoon and I don’t think it’s over yet.” He paused at the kitchen entrance. “Why in hell are the phones out, do you think?” “Beats me. You try to figure that one out while you’re out and about.” “I’ve been thinking about the trouble this is going to stir up. I don’t think we’re up to it, but I’m betting Biggs will try to sweep it all under the rug.” Doc frowned. “I couldn’t in good conscience allow him to do that. If it wasn’t for the phones being out, I’d go over Biggs’ head and advise quarantining the county until help arrives. Once the state goes to the federal government with this, that’s exactly what’s going to happen.” Rex shrugged his helplessness. “Which is the worst case scenario, do you suppose, pissing off Biggs or spreading some kind of an alien plague?” Doc gave a nod of understanding and a final grim smile. “The plague would be the lesser of two evils. I suppose you had better do what the sheriff says.” - 40 -

Five

C

aitlin dreaded Leon’s return home. He had fixed her bedroom window so that it would not rise high enough to allow her to escape by that route. She paced restlessly, debating the wisdom of allowing herself to be cornered in her upstairs bedroom, except that she couldn’t keep running into the hills forever to evade him. Running in circles accomplished nothing. She had nowhere to go. She froze in the center of her bedroom when she heard his car pull into the drive. She cringed as he pounded up the staircase. The only move left to her was a futile gesture of defiance. She pushed the dresser against the bedroom door. Leon barged through the door, brushing the heavy piece of furniture aside like annoying piece of fluff. He loomed in the doorway like an invading bear. “I told you to stay away from Rex Logan.” Caitlin grabbed a sewing needle from the top of the dresser as her only weapon of defense. She backed away and - 41 -

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sat cross-legged in the middle of her bed. “He was on duty. You were sleeping.” “I told you and Vivian to wake me during the day if there was an emergency.” “You were drunk!” “I’m never that drunk.” The truth of it stabbed at her. He was never so drunk that he couldn’t torment her. Dr. Kaufman had said he would drink himself to death, but it seemed likely that he would outlive them all. “Doesn’t matter,” she decided a split second later. “I’ve seen another one. It ain’t over yet.” “Another what?” “Another green shooting star. They have things inside them. Connie got bitten by one.” He thought her argument a ruse and shook his head. “I told you to keep your distance from young Logan.” He gave her no choice but to defy him. Tension between him had been building for days. “I won’t. I don’t have to. Get out of here, Leon. It ain’t proper you being in my bedroom.” He stared at her with his old hungry look, bent and miserable, and still too drunk to be thinking clearly. “You should ask polite-like,” he murmured. “You could call me daddy now and then.” “You’re not my real daddy.” “I see your mother in you when you call me by name. The disrespect ain’t proper. You have no idea how it was between me and Katrina. I loved that woman, child. She was the only decent thing that ever happened to me.” Then why did she kill herself? To ask would be to risk a terrible beating. It was enough that Leon was thinking it and that it was tearing him apart inside. “She had no right,” Leon said, seeing the condemnation in her eyes, “no goddamn right at all doing what she did and leaving me with another man’s baby.” - 42 -

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“Get out,” Caitlin said evenly. She could hear Vivian weeping downstairs, and it was Vivian’s presence that defused the tension crackling between them. “I only want the best for you, Caitlin.” “I know what you want from me,” she spat at him too quietly for Vivian to hear. Stung, he drew himself to his full height. “If I’m not your kin like you keep throwing in my face, what crime would it be?” Caitlin started violently. She had never heard him speak so bluntly about that forbidden thing. “It ain’t like you’re never going to get it from boys your own age. Which one of them can give you half the things I’ve given you? I promised you that new car when you turned of age. I’ve saved for it.” Except that he wanted to trade for it. He wanted her to be nothing better than a whore. He had taken what he wanted from Vivian for as long as it had lasted, and now he wanted her. It was all he had ever wanted from Katrina, her mother. It was all he had ever wanted from any of them. Leon ventured closer. He sat on the edge of the bed and tentatively reached for her hand. Caitlin’s anger flared unexpectedly. She jabbed him in the back of the hand with her sewing needle. Leon jerked his hand back with a look of surprise. Caitlin rolled off the opposite side of the bed and fled to Aunt Vivian’s bedroom down the hall. Leon had allowed Vivian a lock on her door. Caitlin set the latch and leaned with her back against the barrier. Her heart pounded furiously in her chest. But she had to stay and deal with it. Now. Once and for all. The blow against the door ripped the lock to pieces and spun her about. She caught her balance and stopped facing Vivian’s dresser, remembering suddenly what Vivian kept in her top dresser drawer. Rather than let him have his way, she - 43 -

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opened the drawer, grabbed for the tiny handgun, and managed to bring it around before he had quite reached her. He stopped dead. Blood drained from his face. With his eyes on the gun, he backed away. “You’ve gone too far this time, child.” “You made us learn how to use it,” she said through clenched teeth. “And I learned good, so you had better stay back.” Caitlin advanced on him, taking advantage of her stepfather’s moment of hesitation. Sober, he would have snatched the pistol from her grip in an instant. “What are you going to do,” he muttered. “Shoot me?” She hadn’t thought that far ahead. “You don’t pull a gun on a person unless you intend to use it, Caitlin.” She could see why. It was as harmless as a toy, unless she was capable of pulling the trigger, but she had to bluff as best she could. She clutched the gun in both hands and raised it to his head. “Damn you, you had better be afraid of me, Leon! I’m warning you!” “Caitlin,” he whispered harshly. “Don’t break what ties we got left between us. Whether you know it or not, you need me as much as I need you.” Which was not something she could deal with now. She wheeled about with a scream of utter helplessness and fled as she had fled a hundred times in the past, down the stairs and out the back door. Behind her, Leon roared and came pounding at her heels.

- 44 -

Six

C

aitlin rushed by Vivian on her way through the kitchen. Vivian threw her arms over her head and screamed, trying to block out the battle between her niece and the man who had fed them, put a roof over their heads, and abused them for twenty long years. Leon stopped on the back porch, already huffing and puffing and rapidly sobering. He barked sudden laughter at the retreating girl, aware now of how foolishly he was behaving. “Come back to yer old pappy!” he called out, mocking himself as much as poking fun at Caitlin’s innocent rage. “Where you running off to?” He stumbled after her, rubbing the hand she had punctured with her needle and doubting the wisdom of a chase through the foothills of the Appalachians. Aging, overweight, and none too steady on his feet, he’d catch her nonetheless. Caitlin was as fleet of foot as the deer of the

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forest, but as much an unthinking creature of habit at her tender age. He had an idea where she’d go to hide. “I’m coming, little girl! I’ll find you!” He underestimated the effect his taunt would have on her. Badly. She whirled about in the middle of the back lawn of a late September afternoon, screaming with the energy of a nest of riled polecats. He didn’t expect her to actually use Vivian’s little twentytwo revolver. He should have known better than to corner the girl. At that particular moment, he had entirely forgotten about the revolver. The crack and puff of gray smoke brought it quickly back to mind. Only fate decreed that the bullet smack home in the door jamb alongside his head rather than shatter the bone of his skull. A cloud of splinters stung the side of his face. Leon turned away, blinking tears against the pain. He touched his injured cheek in amazement, and his fingers came away bloody. “Why you wild little filly,” he murmured in surprise. Apprehension tempered his anger. He hadn’t meant for it to go this far. He drank too much, and he was too apt to take what he wanted drunk. He drank to block out the past and memory of Katrina, and Caitlin kept dragging it all back into his tormented sphere of consciousness. If only he would quit confusing the two. But Caitlin, too, had taken her defiance too far. It had to be quelled. He dared not relinquish the upper hand in the household. Attempted murder raised the stakes a bit, but the chase was still on. Horrified by what she had done, Caitlin tossed the handgun aside and vanished into the trees. It was, in Leon’s studied opinion, a critical error. A second shot would have probably found its mark, and who would have ever held it against her? - 46 -

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Leon stormed across the back yard after the girl thinking it would be a rewarding Saturday evening after all. Regardless of what happened, who could she turn to now? As long as he lived, he would have his own way with those who depended upon him like a herd of helpless sheep for their very existence.

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Seven

L

eon had taught her how to shoot Vivian’s revolver in the woods behind the house. Nobody, however, had ever taught her how to handle her own impulsiveness. Caitlin cried out her frustration the instant the pistol barked and snapped back in her hand. She hadn’t meant to shoot him, only to scare him away. But her bullet went a few inches astray, and guns did not scare Leon Biggs. He surged forward with a growl. Shrieking in rage that she could be so stupid, she tossed aside the handgun and fled into the trees. She had nowhere to go. Rex would never be able to protect her now, not after what she had done. Leon was the only law of the land in Brighton County. She ran to dispel the tension tearing at her gut. She flew through the trees, sucking the air of the hills into her lungs. It was getting dark now, and a full moon shown through the

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purple sky. Dew from an earlier shower sparkled in the underbrush like the scattering of precious diamonds. She generated her own cooling breeze as she ran. She could run into the next county or even the next state with her long legs and callused feet flying so effortlessly along the deer trail. Except that it would be pitch black when the moon set, and she was already hungry and thirsty. Wearing nothing but an old, loose-fitting shift, where would she go in the wilderness? Leon had deputies in the two closest towns. A bit of nagging guilt accompanied her flight through the trees. It wasn’t all Leon’s fault. He had spoiled her as she had gotten older. He had given her the master bedroom and bought her a stereo and a canopied bed from the big cities. He had courted her in his own sick fashion, and in her naive greed, she had taken his offerings, even knowing what he had done to Aunt Vivian and how badly her mother’s death had twisted him inside. She should have stayed in school. Leon had let her drop out on purpose. If he had wanted to isolate her from the world and keep her ignorant so that he could have her for himself, he had succeeded. She had been too blind to see. Caitlin moaned in anguish and ran all the faster. In the end, she winded herself. Her bare feet slapped the wet earth of a trail meandering down a quiet ravine. She stopped there, confident that she had outdistanced Leon by miles and miles. He was a big man, built like a bear, and he positively waddled when he ran. How could he hope to catch her? In her last year of school, she had been able to outrun even the boys in her gym class, and she could certainly outrun the Rather brothers. She hadn’t thought about a destination, but she was near Troll Valley Road. Just down the hill a bit awaited a burned out hulk of an old school bus where she and her friends had played during her early school years. It had become - 49 -

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her personal sanctuary. She visited often during the summer when she needed time alone to think. An interlocking mass of grape vines hid the hulk of rusting metal from view. The door yawned open like the opening to a cave. Nothing was left of the day’s light to seep through windows rendered mostly opaque by rust stains seeping down the sides from the pitted roof. She circled the giant fairy-mound among the trees, then stuck her head inside in search of coons and possums that may have taken up housekeeping. Or maybe a transient, some old toothless alcoholic who’d like nothing better than to have a hapless, half-dressed girl come stumbling into his isolated abode. The dingy old bus was empty inside. Sheets of cardboard and nests of dried grass warned of past tenants, both human and animal, but nothing looked at all fresh. Caitlin went to the back seat, brushed the dust off, and lay herself down in the cool dark. Her heart pitter-pattered in her chest, not because of the long run through the woods, but in fear of what Leon would do when he caught her. Leon had hardened over the years. She had heard stories of shoot-outs with drug and moonshine runners, and especially the one about dragging old man Cramer into the woods and putting a bullet in his head for sodomizing some local grade school kids. She knew what the word meant. She lived between the hills and civilization, between ignorance and the kind of street smarts only a cop could bequeath to a daughter. A stepdaughter, rather. She had been a baby in Katrina Kingsley’s bruised arms when her mother had arrived in Brighton Hollow, so she had no memory of her real father, or of her home in the hills. Her memories of childhood began with Sheriff Leon Biggs and his beautiful house on the edge of town. They were vaguely pleasant memories for the most part, - 50 -

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until her mother died and Aunt Vivian tried to take her place and keep the household together. Caitlin rested in the dark and the cool and made her plans behind closed eyelids. She’d go into Brighton Hollow and talk again to Deputy Rex Logan. Rex knew what was going on between the sheriff and his second-hand family. The young deputy would give in to her sooner or later. Someday, Rex would be sheriff, and she would be his wife. When that day came, Leon would be a sorry old man who would never dare touch her again. Caitlin clambered to her feet when she heard the hiss of static. Leon’s radio. The yellow beam of a flashlight darted through the front door of the bus. She rolled off the seat and squatted behind one of the rear seats, trembling with panic. She should never have come here. Leon had known where she would go. Now, if she could only keep her harsh, ragged breathing from giving her away entirely. “Caitlin? You in here, child?” The beam of light darted about the interior of the bus. Debris crackled beneath his weight. “You came about a half foot from putting a bullet in my face, little girl. If you think I’m gonna let that pass lightly, it’s not going to happen, but if you wanna come out and discuss the situation calmly...” When he got close, Caitlin came out screaming. She leaped into the man’s face, clawing his eyes with both hands and bringing one knee up into his groin, a technique a girlfriend had suggested she use on the Rather brothers and one she had never tried before. A massive arm swung out and sent her careening to the floor of the bus. She crawled away frantically only to have a heavy foot clamp down on a bare ankle and pin her in place. Leon dragged her screaming to her feet by one arm. Her own frantic writhing tore her shift down her right side from - 51 -

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shoulder to hip, and her thrashing accomplished nothing but to show them both how helpless she was. He cuffed her wrists together with a snap of cold metal, hoisted her into the air by her arms, and hung her bodily from the broken end of an overhead hand rail. Caitlin cried out as the cuffs dug into the skin of her wrists, astonished that he could move so fast and be so thoughtlessly brutal. She kicked about in a futile display of anger, her bare toes inches above the floor of the old bus, but she fell quiet when Leon gave a low, ominous chuckle. With her shift all but torn from her body, Caitlin was suddenly deathly afraid. Casually, Leon unholstered his thirty-eight revolver. He ran the cold tip of the barrel up the side of her bare leg. “Use your head, little girl. You know the things people have done to one another in these woods. Nobody sees. Nobody hears.” “I didn’t mean to shoot at you!” Caitlin cried. “I just didn’t want you hurting me anymore!” “Hurting you?” Leon snorted in disgust. “I’ve never hurt you, child.” “You raped Aunt Vivian!” Caitlin shrieked, enraged that he could deny his crimes. “And if you weren’t so drunk all the time, you’d rape me, too!” His free hand lashed out and grasped her throat, shutting off her air. “I never tried to kill you, little girl. I never left a bruise on your lily white body. That aunt of yours is so frail, I could bust her in half if I so much as sneezed, and neither did that ever happen.” Even so, he was a bully and a terrorist. She wished in her final moments of consciousness that she had shot the bastard in the face and killed him. Leon let go of her throat before she fainted. Her lungs sucked air of their own accord. he would have preferred unconsciousness to what was going to happen next. His anger - 52 -

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calmly evaporated, and he put his gun away with one hand, but he placed the other against her bare hip in absent-minded fascination. A dull, distant thunder intervened. At first she thought it a part of the roar of her own pulse pounding in her head. And then she heard lightning crackle, except that it was a long, drawn-out sound, growing louder by the moment. And then it didn’t sound like lightning at all, but rather like an airplane tearing through the sky at horrendous speed. The sound of its impact boomed in the near distance. She jerked violently, certain that she had just heard the sound of a hundred people getting killed. Except that it happened again further off to the north. This time, she recognized it as the sound of another shooting star hitting the ground, although closer to her than the one that had hit Connie’s house. Still another came from the south. And a third, and a fourth from all around. The very air quivered with multiple impacts. Distracted by the noise, Leon looked around. “What the hell...” The door of the old bus flickered green light. Leon went outside to investigate. Caitlin kicked against the seat behind her and sent her handcuffed wrists sliding down the chromed handrail and off the broken end. She careened forward, twisting to one side to absorb the impact of her fall. “My God!” Leon cried out from outside. “What’s happening?” Caitlin struggled to her feet holding to what was left of her torn shift with cuffed hands. With a cry of frustration, she let it fall from her body and kicked it aside in frustration. Dressed in nothing but a pair of Leon’s handcuffs, she went outside to see what the commotion was all about. There were lights in the evening sky, thousands of tiny balls of green light that spat and sparkled as they came roaring - 53 -

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down to earth. They were beautiful, handfuls of flickering emeralds thrown to earth by the hand of some strange god. They cast a green illumination and darting shadows though the dark interior of the bus. Caitlin retained enough presence of mind to duck around the front of the bus and dive into dense underbrush. Within seconds, she had made a clean escape, except that her wrists were still cuffed, and the underbrush was tearing at her skin. It was hard to imagine what she might do with her newfound freedom as naked and helpless as a nightcrawler stranded on concrete. Deputy Rex Logan in Brighton Hollow was her only hope. “My God, Caitlin!” Leon Biggs cried out behind her. “Will you look at this! Caitlin, come out here and look at this!” Caitlin was out of earshot by that time, using the light of the meteors crashing through the atmosphere to wend her way between the trees. She fought to put as much distance between herself and her stepfather as possible. When he noticed her missing, not even the spectacle of all history taking place over Brighton Hollow would distract him in his search for her. Too much was at stake. She didn’t dare allow him to catch her a second time. Her very life was at risk.

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Eight

T

roll Valley road ran thirty miles between two major interstates and sported three small towns along its path, Orange City, Rex Logan’s current destination, to the north, Cyprus Ridge to the south, and Brighton Hollow tucked between them. The only economy the three communities boasted consisted of farming sufficient to keep its sparse population alive and the minimal tourist trade of travelers avoiding the beaten paths for quaint towns and scenic routes. Brighton County was nothing but quaint and rustic. The east to west interstates on either side of the county had isolated the rural community as effectively as stone walls. On an entirely personal level, Rex had no objections to his isolation, no more than he objected to the radio being out. He drove along the highway meandering its way through dense forest with one arm hanging out the window and the tape deck beating out one of his favorite New Age pieces. He had no particular desire to reach his destination any time - 55 -

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soon. A full moon shown through the tree canopies hanging over the road, casting a pale glow on the blacktop beyond the reach of his headlights. Regardless of the peaceful interlude, he goosed the accelerator when he noticed his speed dropping below fifty. Orange City and Cyprus Junction lay fifteen miles in opposite directions from Brighton Hollow. It would take roughly an hour to reach Orange City, backtrack along the county roads to Cyprus Junction, then return to Brighton Hollow, and only God knew how long to hunt down and deal with his fellow deputies, Dick Jenkins, a competent, but difficult self-styled white supremacist in Orange City, and Orville Jackson in Cyprus Junction, the resentful, but capable black Leon had hired to neutralize the political damage Jenkins had inflicted on the department. If the static died down enough to allow a call to the state capitol, Doc Kaufman would have official visitors pulling into Brighton Hollow before dawn to investigate the organic content of Connie’s meteorite, and he wanted to be on hand when that happened. It was then that green fire flared in the sky overhead. “Holy shit!” Rex slammed on the brakes and slid to a stop. He stuck his head out the window in time to watch the green bolide streak by. His guts turned to ice. More green light flickered through the trees, pale at first, but from far overhead, thunder growled and then boomed. Rex reached down to shut off the headlights, then climbed from the car to survey the ominous night sky. Dozens, and then hundreds of meteors glaring green and white streaked on steep, parallel trajectories to the earth. A vehicle rounded a curve behind him, it’s bright lights blinding Rex and sending him leaping into the ditch to avoid being struck. Distracted by the maelstrom overhead, the driver - 56 -

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struck his patrol car a glancing blow. The station wagon bounced off and nosed into the ditch on the opposite side of the road, tires locked and screaming. A woman behind the wheel and a child of about ten clutched one another and shrieked with resonant terror. Rex ran to the car thinking one of the two had incurred injury. Seeing the ominous silhouette of a man outlined in glimmering green light only intensified their terror. Even so, they all looked quickly back to the intensifying spectacle in the night sky. Rex could hear the meteors striking ground nearby, at least a few of them. A small patch of horizon visible to the east absolutely glared in brilliant emerald light, evidence that the phenomenon extended to the horizon, if not well beyond. When the driver of the station wagon realized the significance of the uniform and the patrol car, she climbed from her car and stood at his side with the child wrapped tight in her arms. Overhead, the meteor shower began to abate. The woman stuttered badly for a moment, then cried, “What’s happening!” She cringed as a fireball passed overhead in a crackling roar, then glanced at Rex’s gouged and dented car to assess the extent of her second of two crises. Rex had a hard time taking his eyes off the night sky. “Ma’am, don’t worry about the cars.” “But what happened!” The green meteors still streaked overhead, but fewer than at the height of the incredible shower. “I’m sorry!” she cried. “Please, I’ve got to get home! My children will be so frightened!” “Give me a moment.” Rex returned to the car. He pulled to the side of the road to avoid another accident should further traffic come tearing through. Leaving the engine idling, he wrote out a note on the back of a blank traffic violation form. Deputy Richard Jenkins. Keep it together. We'll get to you with an update as soon as we can. Rex - 57 -

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He then returned to the station wagon and handed the note to the woman. “Run this to the clerk at the Country Mart, the all-night gas station at the highway and Main Street intersection.” She quickly scanned and pocketed the note. “Dick Jenkins. He’s an awful man.” “See if your car will start.” The station wagon popped to life. She backed onto the highway and continued on her way, fishtailing the vehicle down the highway toward Orange City. Rex paused to scan the dark face of the trees and sniffed the night air for evidence of fire. It was too wet to worry about a fire, he decided. He hurried to the car fearing the dark for the first time since childhood. The wheel scrapped against the bent fender on the way back to town. He drove at fifty regardless, wishing now he could do seventy. The streets of Brighton Hollow were deserted except for a few groups of the most courageous pointing to the occasional meteor still streaking through the night sky. The rest of the town had apparently taken refuge in their basements. Given a convenient basement at the height of the storm, he would have been more than happy to join them. Now, he was on auto pilot, trying to carry on a semblance of routine. At least those sensible enough to be cowering in their basements would make his job easier. The interference on the radio intensified. So badly isolated, he drove to Leon’s residence feeling like a child headed for the central authority in his life for instructions on how to react to the crisis, and what to do about it. He had been trained to deal with every natural disaster imaginable. Against the unknown, he was defenseless. Leon’s car sat in the drive, the big house lit from top to bottom. Nobody answered the doorbell. He let himself in and found Vivian sitting on the living room couch looking pale and - 58 -

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dazed. A twenty-two caliber revolver dangled from her right hand. “Vivian?” She looked up, startled. She came to life in an instant, leaping to her feet and pointing somewhere toward the back of the house. “They’re in the woods! He’s chasing her! Rex, she got my gun and she shot at him! She almost killed him!” He could smell the odor of cordite on the hand gun. Despair stabbed at him. Leon had finally pushed Caitlin too far. He had known it would happen sooner or later. He fought to put his priorities in order. “Were either of them hurt?” “No, but he’ll kill her if he catches her!” Rex thought it a possibility the meteor shower had put that life and death conflict on hold for the night. He turned back to the front door, sorting through his options. They amounted to zilch. He could do nothing until Leon showed up and issued whatever orders came to mind. Without their radios, they were both as potent as stud bulls without testicles. “I’ll stay in touch with Doc Kaufman,” he called over his shoulder. “If you need to get word to me, leave it with Doc.” “I don’t have the keys to the car,” she called after him. “Leon took the spares.” Rex had a spare. He took it off his key ring and tossed it to her. “Rex, I shouldn’t! I’m so afraid!” “If you have to use the car, use it.” “What are you going to do?” she asked softly, as if asking for secret information. Caught between Caitlin’s desperation and Leon’s dangerous anger, he had done nothing in the past. He’d have to do something now. Aside from his personal involvement, it was his job. “I’ll think of something,” he said. “It’s gone too far his time.” - 59 -

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She doubted him. He could see it in her eyes. There had been other times he should have intervened and hadn’t. He turned away aching with guilt. He drove to Doc’s house, tapped at the front door, and let himself in. The living room was dark. He checked on Connie and found her sleeping soundly. Doc sat at the desk in his small den, clutching an empty glass with an unopened bottle parked nearby. The old man had been an alcoholic at one time. By his own decree, alcohol was forbidden to him. “Doc?” Doc looked up and focused on him. “My son. I think I’m having a bad dream. I don’t seem to be able to wake up.” Rex took the glass from his hand and set it aside. “That won’t help.” “I had that figured out years ago, young man. The glass is always empty.” “Did you see the fireworks?” Doc expression was haunted. “How could I not have seen? Only the blind and the deaf missed it.” “There’s going to be hell to pay.” Doc chuckled grimly. “I quite imagine that half my patients have died of heart failure. I’m only being mildly sarcastic, you understand.” Rex understood perfectly well. The communications black-out was going to make it all the worse to cope. “I have no way to help,” Doc said. “I’m getting too damned old to be of use to anyone.” Rex shook his head. “I’m half your age and just as damned helpless. I’m thinking it’s a damn good thing I didn’t take that job in Pittsburgh after all.” “My God.” Doc’s eyes widened in horror. “Imagine what it must be like in the cities.” “I got my hands full trying to figure out what to do with Brighton Hollow. Leon and Caitlin picked a fine time to go at - 60 -

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each other’s throats. Vivian tells me that Caitlin tried to shoot him. He’s chasing her out in the hills in the middle of the night, Doc.” Doc eyed his glass of whiskey. “I suppose it’s gotta be a temptation,” Rex confessed. “Except I’m curious. I want to see what comes of all this. It’s the end of the world, you know.” Rex went rigid with tension. He needed Doc’s level head. “It isn’t that bad. I haven’t seen a bit of damage...” Doc reprimanded him with a cold look. Rex knew what he was thinking. “That thing in the shell? You’d have to be crazy to assume there’s going to be one in every goddamn one of those meteors.” “The one was an impossibility,” Doc said softly. “The one was not a natural occurrence. Neither are the multitudes.” Panic tore at Rex. Doc had been the only father he had ever known. He had become dependent upon his professionalism and coldly calculated perspective of life. At times, he didn’t think himself capable of an accurate, independent assessment of his own. Dare he write off Doc’s gloom as the ramblings of an old and frightened man? “You don’t know that for sure,” he said cautiously. Doc gave him a wane smile. “Of course not.” “Then what the hell are we going to do?” “We?” This time, Doc’s chuckle contained a note of genuine amusement. “I’m going to sit here for the rest of the night and wait to see what happens. You, however, are going back out and do what you can to help and keep an eye on things for me. Observe, and by daybreak, maybe we’ll have some inkling of what needs to be done.” Rex pursed his lips, reluctant to bring up the more familiar crisis. “I can’t handle Leon by myself.” “Deal with Leon later,” Doc said. “What if he hurts Caitlin?” - 61 -

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“What is your priority?” The meteor shower and whatever impact it was going to have on the county was his priority. If Leon had hurt Caitlin, he would have to wait until communications were restored and then call state authorities to report the crime. He gave Doc an appreciative nod for advice that had proven level-headed after all and turned away. “If you find one of those meteors, keep your distance.” Rex paused in the doorway to hear him out. “The meteors that impact with the soil will be intact,” Doc said. “If there’s something alive in them, I’m thinking they will survive unharmed.” Rex rushed from the house telling himself that Doc’s paranoia was reaching too far. It wasn’t anything he could afford to waste his time thinking about, not now, hopefully not ever.

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Nine

S

heriff Leon Biggs floundered when he found himself alone in the night. Caitlin had taken the opportunity to run. The girl could well spell the end of his career, but the green fireballs bursting into luminescence in the night sky thundered and streaked their way to the earth and utterly horrified him. Thousands were coming down at the same steep angle, some close enough to whistle and crackle as they approached the ground, others hardly more than a distant growl in the night sky. He could hear their dull sounds of impact when they struck nearby. He had no idea how big the meteors were, how far away they were striking, or how much damage was being inflicted upon the forest and nearby Brighton Hollow. He tried to anticipate what the surrounding county and more distant authorities of state and federal agencies would require of him. Sobered by the fierce spectacle in the night sky, he felt small and foolish. What an idiot he had been to have chased - 63 -

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Caitlin so far into the wilderness. Three miles of dense woods and rolling hills now separated him from his duties. He started back along the deer trail, huffing and puffing and feeling a twinge of angina. He deserved to fall flat on his face and die as a consequence of his stupidity. Even so, despite the risk and the fireworks going on overhead, temptation continued to gnaw at him. It occurred to him that the meteor shower might enthrall Caitlin and slow her pace. If he could find her again, now would be the time to convince her that what he wanted of her was not such an evil thing. He had let her slip through his fingers once too often. If she eluded him again, he would never have another chance. She would slip from his grasp forever and take with her the only spark of life that still burned in his aging body and soul. The intensity of the meteor shower quieted. The woods became forebodingly dark. His radio crackled, and he put it to his ear in hopes of picking up the sound of Rex Logan’s voice. The static, though, was too much to contend with. Leon clipped the radio to his belt and used his pencil flashlight to continue his way through the intensifying darkness. He felt vindicated at long last by those who criticized his practice of wearing his uniform and side-arm off-duty. His was and had always been a twenty-four-hour-a-day job. The meteors were still coming down sporadically. They were small objects, he decided. The ones that growled and crackled through the atmosphere were no more than a few miles off. He wondered at the occasional soft thumping sound when they hit, thinking of Rex and Doc’s wild story of something alive inside the meteor that had struck the Danielson house. Anxiety chewed at his gut. What in hell were they? How much damage had they caused in town? Where in hell had Caitlin run off to? - 64 -

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He sighed repeatedly as he hurried along the dark trail, pausing when a dull ache intensified in his chest, pressing on when it abated. His imagination entertained apocalyptic visions of the end of the world, and a heart attack to prematurely end his participation in it. In time, the worst of his fears were replaced by a roaring headache, legacy of the whiskey he had imbibed during the course of the afternoon. If the fall of meteors came to naught, maybe he could still slip away and spend the balance of the night sleeping it off. Or, maybe he had pushed Caitlin too far this time. Maybe trouble worse than a bunch of green lights in the sky awaited him back at Brighton Hollow if she had cried rape. The fear of being ruined by his own perversity was more than whiskey talking, more than a mid-life crisis rearing its clownish head. To begin with, he was more than middleaged. He was pushing sixty-three, and he generally had no use for women anymore. He hadn’t been able to get it up for Vivian in ages, in fact. It was just child-like Caitlin that bothered him so, the last female on the face of the earth capable of chipping a spark from the old flint. He dreaded the creeping debilitation of his advancing years and the inevitable arrival of the grim reaper. When he was with Caitlin, he was young again. Looking into Caitlin’s eyes, he saw her dead mother, Katrina, looking back at him. He took such terrible risks entertaining those fantasies. Damn her foolish young soul to the farthest and darkest reaches of hell for what she had done to him. He climbed another hill and the angina worsened. He felt like a kid’s windup toy shuffling along at two miles an hour, powered by a rusty, creaky spring that was about to snap. It was almost pitch black by now, and still the meteors came down, although hardly more than one or two a second. One passed overhead particularly close, sending the very - 65 -

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air to quivering with its passage. It hit ground a mile or so directly ahead with a flash of light and a flurry of sparks. A ruddy light began to glow. A fire had been started. A shot of adrenaline brought him instantly alert. Caitlin was just ahead somewhere. Her curiosity would get the best of her. The proximity of the impact promised one final confrontation on his own terms.

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Ten

T

he shock wave of the impact set Caitlin’s insides to vibrating. The glare of the object’s passage momentarily blinded her. Only after the jolt beneath her feet and the dissipation of the blinding afterimages did she see that something had blasted its way through a nearby apple tree, splitting the trunk asunder and scattering the canopy of leaves and branches across the ground. The acrid smell of ozone and burning vegetation seared her lungs. For the moment, the scattering of fires provided plenty of light to see by. The fallen object had left a scar in the earth. At the end of the furrow of churned dirt, it glowed with incandescent heat. As she drew closer, the black, foamy-looking rock the size of a large basketball turned dark, and then began to emit a white vapor. She watched in amazement as frost form on its surface. And then the cold, too, faded away. Nothing more happened. Caitlin reached down with her wrists still cuffed, and she - 67 -

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touched it. Part of the black foam crumbled beneath her finger tips. Deeper inside the object, she could see a pale, shiny surface. With a sigh of determination, knowing full well she should leave well enough alone, Caitlin brushed aside the crumbly black coating and picked up the thing inside with both hands. It was hot, and it had something alive inside, but this one had not been broken open. Estimating its weight at no more than ten or fifteen pounds, she carried it to a nearby outcropping of rock and into the flickering light of burning underbrush. What she set down in the dim light reminded her of an oyster shell about two and a half feet long. The light from the scattered fires rapidly faded. The ludicrous aroma of roasted apples filled the night air. Enveloped by a feeling of unreality, Caitlin didn’t know what to do next. She looked down at herself all scratched and bleeding. The oyster would have to wait. Deputy Rex Logan had to see for himself the monster her stepfather had become. She slipped the shell into a dark wall of nearby underbrush, then turned back to the deer path and the two miles of dark woods left between herself and Brighton Hollow. “Hold it right there, Caitlin.” She froze in place, looked around slowly, and spotted Leon Biggs at the edge of the clearing in the dying firelight. He pointed his gun at her. “They’ll catch you if you shoot me!” she cried, outraged that he could get the best of her every single time. “I just want the handcuffs, Caitlin. I had other plans, mind you, but I’m hurting to bad at the moment to take it any further than that.” “I won’t! I’m going to show Rex Logan what you did to me!” Caitlin turned boldly away. The echoing gunshot that cracked through the night made her jump. A shattered branch - 68 -

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at her feet spun in midair and painfully smacked her bare ankle. The explosion continued to echo between the unseen hills in the dark. “We’re going to have to talk and come to some mutual understanding,” Leon said in a perfectly calm, conversational tone of voice. “Like hell,” she muttered, but without daring to move an inch. “I could drop you right where you stand and nobody would be the wiser. The critters in the hills will turn you to bones in a day. Is that the way you want it?” Caitlin bowed her head. Tears came to her eyes. He had told her a thousand times. The foothills of the Appalachians were filled with the buried corpses of abused women and children, victims of drunken and violent fathers and husbands, some of them forever repentant, others smugly pleased by their crimes and known only to God. “I’d rather not do that to Katrina’s daughter,” Leon said quietly, knowing perfectly well what she was thinking, “but you have to think about possible consequences to what you do.” Caitlin glanced back at him with fire in her eyes. “If I go to jail, the bank takes back the house you live in,” Leon said. “Vivian goes back to the hills. You’d have to go with her, and you’d both be in more danger than you can imagine. Is that what you want?” It wasn’t what she wanted. He would never understand what she wanted. “I ain’t mistreated you in any way that counts for crap, Caitlin.” Caitlin burst into open tears. He had and he didn’t even seem to know it. “I just want the cuffs. We’ll put the rest of it on hold and talk it out later. I’ve got to get back to town and sort out this mess.” - 69 -

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She turned and held her bound wrists out to him, hoping he was telling the truth and wouldn’t take advantage of her helplessness. It seemed likely that he genuinely had to get back to town after all the excitement. The things from the sky could have hurt people, or set buildings on fire, and Sheriff Biggs was the only law the three towns in Brighton County had. Leon drew closer. His eyes dwelled on the pale outline of her body highlighted by the ruddy firelight. He gave a cold chuckle. “I keep telling you to wear more clothes. Now look at the situation you got yourself into.” But he unlocked the cuffs without touching her. Then he said gently, “Remember that it’s your word against mine. Don’t start trouble you can’t finish.” He turned and waddled away, hopefully destined to drop dead during the long walk back to town. It would be for the best. He had life insurance. If she had killed him when she had the chance, Vivian would have gotten his house and all his money. If only she could think a little faster in moments of crisis and with a little more clarity. Caitlin waited until Leon’s footsteps could no longer be heard in the darkness, then started back toward the house using another trail. If nothing else, she needed Vivian’s assurance that the end of the world wasn’t upon them all. Nothing that had happened during the evening, not even the worst of her nightmares, would matter more than a mosquito’s fart if some truly horrible catastrophe had befallen the world.

- 70 -

Eleven

C

aitlin watched the house from the back yard, waiting for a chance to sneak up to her room and put some clothes on without being seen. While Aunt Vivian moved nervously and unpredictably from one downstairs room to another, mosquitoes swarmed her. She trembled with growing torment with her arms crossed self-defensively against her breasts, waiting until she figured she had better than a fifty-fifty chance of getting upstairs without being seen. Only then did she bolt for the back door. She made it through the kitchen and to the foot of the staircase before Vivian’s eminently reasonable voice stopped her in her tracks. “Why, Caitlin Kingsley, you’re as naked as a jay bird.” Caitlin whirled about, appalled by Vivian’s calm indignation. “No kidding!” she cried out in rage. She spread her arms and looked down at herself. “Gee, I wonder how this happened! I hadn’t even noticed!”

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Vivian hugged herself and trembled violently. “Did he hurt you?” Caitlin clasped her wrists with her hands, trying to hide the cuff marks. “He would have. Did you see the fire in the sky?” “I saw.” But it wasn’t important to her. “Being raped is something a woman will lie about, Caitlin. Did he hurt you?” Caitlin simmered with indignation. “No. I’m not lying, and don’t you dare blame me for any of this, Aunt Vivian. Is he here?” “He came and he left again. He looked simply awful. Dr. Kaufman has warned him time and time again about his weight, and his heart...” Caitlin rushed up the stairs, locked herself into the bathroom adjacent to her bedroom, and cranked the water in the shower on full blast. “You must leave this household!” Vivian called out over the noise from outside the door. “Caitlin, he’s not in his right mind!” Caitlin sat cross-legged on the floor of the stall and let the water beat on her head. Neither she nor Vivian were better than whores for putting up with Leon as they had for so long, except that neither of them had any real choice. As Rex had told her, she’d be easy pickings for slick strangers in the big city. Leon laughed at her whenever she threatened to run away from home. Vivian had gone back downstairs by the time Caitlin finished with her shower. She put on another shift and paced her bedroom barefoot, scratching at the welts left behind by mosquitoes and biting flies. She sat on the edge of her canopied bed and tried the FM radio on her thousand dollar component stereo for news of the green shooting stars. She tuned nothing but static across the whole band, FM and AM - 72 -

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both. She tried her new Sony portable television with the same result. White snow filled the tiny screen. Vivian ventured back up the stairs after fifteen minutes of pacing the downstairs hall. She sat quietly at Caitlin’s side on the bed and silently invited her to discuss the crisis on her own terms. Caitlin couldn’t resist. “Why did my mother kill herself, Aunt Vivian? Was it because of him? Did Leon make her do it?” Vivian was silent for a moment, answering with more care and detail than she had in the past. “Your mother had a sadness in her, Caitlin. Something was wrong with her, something deep inside that even Doc Kaufman could not have fixed.” Caitlin was horrified. “Could I have the same thing wrong with me, Aunt Vivian?” Vivian put an arm about her shoulders and gave her a reassuring hug. “No, of course not. Caitlin, it was the hills, the poverty and the abuse. It was too much for her.” Vivian held out a gnarled, trembling hand. “See? Do you think I have fended any better? In the long run, I think not.” Caitlin could not imagine the suffering it would take for a girl her own age to want to die, especially a young girl with a baby. She herself had never entertained such horrible thoughts. It embarrassed her to think that she had not suffered as much as her mother, that life could be worse than Leon Biggs and his drunken groping in the dark. Vivian looked away and let the tears run unimpeded down her face. Vivian always cried when they talked about the old days, although she never discussed those early years in much detail no matter how hard Caitlin pressed. Caitlin had so few memories of her mother, and none at all of her real father. Vivian had once admitted that he still lived somewhere near Culverton in the Appalachian foothills. She had warned Caitlin that her very life would be in danger should she ever try - 73 -

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to visit that area of the state and declare herself a Kingsley by birth. “There are feuds between families in the hills,” was all Vivian would say about the danger. “Your father and your mother’s family fought terribly. They should never have married. Your father tried his best to make things work, but your mother couldn’t stand the constant bitterness and tension. She was driven away and threatened should she ever return or try to contact your father.” It was a new part of the story, something she had never heard before, although not the whole story. Caitlin could hear the tension that warned of more to come should Vivian ever let go of it. Still, she had been told that Frank and Katrina’s love for one another had been of a special kind, so Frank should have gone after Katrina, or Katrina should have returned to seek out her husband despite the danger. They should have risked their very lives to be together with their new baby. She knew so in her heart. But it was all history, and it had no immediate impact on her life. She had problems of her own in the here and now. “Leon’s getting mean,” she said, changing the subject to the most critical of those problems. “He’s going to get drunk and hurt us, even if he doesn’t mean to.” “Leave,” Vivian said, sounding cold and uncaring. “You have no other recourse.” Running away had lost its appeal. “Was my mother right in running away?” “Her life was as stake. Yours may be, too.” “He has no right,” Caitlin said. “This is our home, too.” “He’s getting old,” Vivian said softly. “He suffers so.” “I don’t care how old he gets,” Caitlin said, “or why he’s so unhappy. I’m going to tell Rex Logan what he did to me today. I’m going to make Leon stop.” - 74 -

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Vivian looked shocked. “You’ll accomplish nothing but to get the poor lad fired.” Caitlin decided it time to allow her secret dreams into the light of day. “Rex can find another job. He can go away and be a police officer in Pittsburgh just like Leon’s afraid he might do. And I could go with him, because I know he loves me.” “Deputy Logan lives with a woman eight years older than yourself and a great deal wiser, Caitlin Kingsley.” Caitlin sighed. “Rex likes me better. I’ve seen it in his eyes.” Vivian drew back and gazed at her in alarm. “What you see in Rex Logan’s eyes is not love. What you will see in any man’s eyes is no different than the evil lust that infests your stepfather.” But Caitlin had seen for herself the joy in the eyes of newly wed couples. Even lust could be a beautiful thing in the right place and at the right time. “I can make him love me,” she announced with utmost confidence. “I know he cares, and he’s not anything like Leon.” Aunt Vivian, never one to argue, rose and quietly left the room. Caitlin lay back on her bed and tried to shut out all doubting thoughts from her mind. She didn’t want to think anymore. The burden had become unbearable. Except that if she fell asleep now, Leon would just wake her in the middle of the night, and it would start all over again. Instead, she bolted upright and decided that now was the time to act. She would retrieve the oyster shell she had hidden in the woods by the burnt apple tree. It was the only excuse she had to visit Rex Logan, and the only one he might accept. Other shells had fallen, thousands upon thousands of them. She would have to hurry to be the first to offer him one of the shooting stars. She would most likely catch him alone at the office. Leon often slept on the bunks of the basement jail cells when he was - 75 -

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drunk. As old as he was, the evening’s excitement would have exhausted him, and that’s where he’d be, in the basement, sleeping and harmless for the rest of the night, leaving Rex to attend to business. She put loafers on her bare feet and slipped from the house without being seen. Outside, the moon had set and the night was pitch black. She circled the dilapidated old barn out back, fetched a battery-powered lantern from the tool shed, and followed its beam into a night filled with untold threat and promise. She raced happily behind the lantern’s dancing cone of light, oblivious to how intensely quiet the night had become.

- 76 -

Twelve

T

he scattered fires in the clearing had all but burned out. Caitlin set the lantern aside and pulled the giant oyster from the underbrush. Lifting the burden into her arms, she reached for the lantern and turned away toward town. Within a hundred yards, something quivered inside the shell. Caitlin let it drop at her feet with a shriek of fright. She stared down at the fallen pod, as curious as she was fearful. She understood that the thing had come from the stars, but she didn’t understand how there could be anything alive inside. It had been charred during its fiery entrance into the atmosphere, but she had seen frost that had formed as evidence of the deathly cold still inside the object. She squatted and poked at the shell with a stick. The seam along the lip of the two halves of the shell gleamed moistly in the pale light from the lantern. Had that been there before, or was the thing opening? Even as she watched, the seam widened further. Inside - 77 -

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writhed a gray, wet-looking meat, very much what she would have imagined a giant oyster would look like on the inside. The poor animal should have fallen into the ocean. Stranded on dry land, it was dying. Caitlin leaned closer, curious as to whether or not she would find a pearl inside. A snakelike appendage whipped free of the shell. Caitlin leaped back within the span of time it took her heart to skip a beat. For a brief moment, she was convinced that she had avoided the unexpected attack. But something had stung her ankle. hen the sting registered, she looked down to see a black hook at the end of a red string of meat stuck in her flesh. She tried to kick it free, but only succeeded in losing her balance and falling to the ground. She scooted frantically away from the broken halves of the oyster, but simply dragged it with her. The tongue of the creature wound itself about her foot. A gray piece of meat tore free from the shell. She felt the wet mass crawling up her bare leg. Where it touched her skin, it burned, spreading a bitter-sweet sensation like an intense itching, but free of the need to scratch. It was, oddly, a very pleasant sensation. A creeping paralysis spread in the wake of the sensation. It engulfed her, and her body became a stranger to her, an unfeeling appendage of no particular consequence. She lay staring into the dew-laden underbrush gleaming in the light of the fallen lantern, engulfed in a warm, pleasant void. Approaching footsteps fractured a twig. It stopped somewhere very near, and she resented the intrusion, especially when she recognized the hushed voices. “Wow, I guess she did come back out this way,” Earl Rather said, sounding genuinely surprised by his good fortune. “What do you suppose happened to her?” Morris prodded her with a boot. “Is she dead?” - 78 -

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Earl smacked his brother with the heel of his hand. “No, you idiot, she just laid down to take a nap.” “Careful,” a third voice said. “That’s one of those shells from the meteors. Poor Caitlin. What do you suppose we should do?” The third voice belonged to Jeremy Berman, a goofy twenty-year-old who worked for the state fixing highways. Jeremy had graduated from Brighton County High two years ago at the bottom of his class, although Caitlin had never done much better before she quit. She had thought Jeremy harmless. The Rather brothers, though, were not. Jeremy knelt at her side and touched her on the shoulder. “Caitlin, are you okay?” His touch felt ice cold. He tried shaking her shoulders gently. “Caitlin, it’s me.” Morris lifted the hem of her shift with the toe of his boot. “Anyone want odds on whether she’s wearing undies?” “She’s hurt, for Christ’s sake!” Jeremy said. “Lay off!” Morris shoved him aside. “Fuck off yourself, Berman.” “She’s drunk,” Earl decided. “Drunk, or high on something.” “She’s hurt!” Jeremy protested. “Then I suppose we should take a peek and check for bruises,” Morris said with a cackle. “That’s Biggs’ daughter,” Jeremy reminded the two. “Who’s going to tell?” Earl said gently. “Me and Morris won’t. And you’re going to be the first to have a go at her, so we know damned well you’re not going to.” “I wanted to be first,” Morris whined in protest. Earl ignored his brother. “What do you say, Berman?” Berman was silent, contemplating temptation. Caitlin stared into the darkness, feeling her tears tickle their way down the side of her face, but otherwise helpless to react. - 79 -

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A firm hand on her hip rolled her onto her back. “Christ, her eyes are open,” Jeremy said. “But she’s breathing,” Earl said. “Told you so. Booze or drugs. Two to one her old man drove her to it. If you still think she’s hurt, we’ll just have to have a look...” The hem of her shift rose to cover her face. If she was being touched, she could feel nothing. Morris was the first to speak. His tone of voice was hushed and filled with fear. “What the hell is that thing?” “Get it off her,” Jeremy said, and Caitlin heard him break a stick in half. She thought maybe he was poking at the thing that had attached itself to her body. She couldn’t be certain, and she wasn’t certain if she appreciated the interference. Jeremy shrieked, his voice pitched as high as a child. It happened in an instant. Dead weight fell across Caitlin’s legs. “It bit him!” Morris cried. His voice slowly filled with terror. “Did you see that? It bit him!” “Oh, God,” Earl murmured. “Look what’s happening!” Morris made a gagging sound, then staggered away and vomited. Without another word, the two fled. She heard the sound of their boots crashing through the underbrush. In time, the silence of the night returned with a vengeance. Caitlin’s mind became a void of starkly vivid consciousness filled with a vague and pervasive feeling of pleasure and well-being. The night progressed. Crickets did not chirp. Mosquitoes did not bite. Dawn turned the sky rosy, and dew formed heavy and wet on her motionless eyelashes.

- 80 -

Thirteen

R

ex Logan awakened to a strangely quiet morning. He opened his eyes first to confirm daylight, then cautiously lifted his head from the desk, wincing until the throbbing in his head subsided. He rolled his head to loosen stiff muscles, thankful that he had at least survived the night. A long and quiet Sunday would give the world a chance to recuperate and deal with the trauma it had endured. He rose to his feet in the empty sheriff’s substation, gave a moment’s vertigo time to pass, then turned away to attend his first priority of the day, a fresh pot of coffee. A glance at the wall clock told him that he had snoozed four uninterrupted hours, entirely unintended hours of unconsciousness that had put multiple crises on hold. Maybe for the best. He waited out the coffee then carried a hot mug to the front window. Leon’s car was parked in front, which meant the sheriff was probably in the basement cell area sleeping it off. Leon hadn’t bothered to awaken him to be grilled about his - 81 -

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confrontation with Caitlin, but at least Rex could safely assume Caitlin had survived it in one piece. It was quiet, even for a Sunday morning. The meteor shower had kept the county up late. The whole damned world would probably sleep in late, including Doc and Connie. Well, maybe not the whole damned world. The churches would be packed. Admonishments of impeding Armageddon would ring from each and every pulpit. There’d be literal hell to pay later in the day. Several thousand people were going to be out and about demanding an explanation. Rex drank his coffee, locked the office behind him, and drove to Doc Kaufman’s house thinking he’d catch the Doc asleep. Meeting Doc on the front porch reminded him that Doc often complained of not being able to sleep more than two or three hours at a time under any circumstance. Doc’s grim expression told him that something was still amiss. “Is Connie up yet?” Rex asked anxiously. “Is she feeling better?” “Up and gone home,” Doc said curtly. “On foot. She said she wanted her car and would salvage what she needed from the house. She said to remind you that she has the key to your apartment. She’ll meet you there.” Connie’s recovery lightened his burden. “How is she holding up?” “She reacted quite poorly to the disclosure that a certain young Caitlin Biggs came to her rescue.” “Has anyone else been hurt?” Doc raised an eyebrow. “How would I know?” Alarm jangled through him. “The phones are still out? No shit?” He glanced up and down the block. Not a soul moved anywhere in sight. “I don’t understand.” “It’s not over,” Doc said, his tone of voice laden with warning. “Seen anything of Leon?” - 82 -

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Rex paced the porch nervously. “Leon’s sleeping it off in the cells. I suppose that means Caitlin’s okay.” “Son, he’s going to kill himself. His heart’s clogged up. Arteriosclerosis. He’s a prime by-pass candidate. If he doesn’t get it done soon, he’s a corpse.” “Is that what came out of that physical last month he wouldn’t talk about?” “I’ve under strict orders to keep my mouth shut, but last night was too much stress for a man as sick as Leon to endure. Or me, for that matter.” But Rex had always known Leon Biggs would live and die on his own terms. Rex spent a moment studying the empty streets, more concerned with Brighton Hollow’s reaction to the night’s events. Not a soul stirred anywhere, not even a dog. “It won’t last,” Doc said, accurately reading his strained expression. “It’s been a long night, but by noon, everyone’s going to be out and about asking questions. If the black-out doesn’t end soon, the roads are going to be mighty crowded with a lot of nervous people wanting a full tank of gas in their car and their cupboards well-stocked with food. You’re going to have your hands full with bickering and fender benders.” Rex agreed wholeheartedly with Doc’s assessment of the situation. “Maybe I had better take another crack at checking on Dick and Orville. Doc, we ain’t got enough people to handle this.” “I’m puzzled though,” Doc said, preoccupied by another train of thought. “Considering the magnitude of the crisis, I would have thought we’d have seen something of the National Guard unit in Culverton. You’d think they’d at least send out runners to update local government and law enforcement on what’s happening. I haven’t seen an aircraft fly over all morning, and the highways are mostly deserted.” Rex scanned the morning sky, looking for the contrails of the commercial jets that passed overhead almost - 83 -

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constantly. Rex wasn’t so certain the military would mobilize so fast, and maybe the airliners were grounded pending assurance that the meteor shower was over. In any event, they had no choice but to be patient with the crisis. With a casual wave of farewell, he started down the stairs to the car. “I’ll stop by when I get back.” “Keep your eyes peeled,” Doc said. “I need to know how long this will last.” That went without saying. And he, in turn, would need the old man’s objectivity, education, and intelligence to make sense of it all and weather the brewing storm. The night before, he had headed north for Orange City to pay Richard Jenkins a visit first. Having sent a note ahead, he decided now to head south instead. Orville would be good for a cold beer and some friendly conversation. He needed a chat and a chance to sort things out and unwind before coping with the likes of Jenkins. He drove toward Cyprus Junction along the deserted blacktop feeling strangely alone in the world in more than just the physical sense of the word. His authority stemmed from Leon and the county, but with Leon on the ragged edge of dereliction of duty, he was left with nothing but the board of supervisors and the state to tell him his job, faceless and now voiceless entities as useful to him and as real in the immediate moment as the tooth fairy. He wasn’t and had never been a self-motivator. He had been a mediocre student throughout school, and hardly more than a mediocre graduate of the police academy. It had always been his greatest fear that he’d be someday challenged beyond his ability to function and revealed for the loser he was. The drive along Troll Valley Road took one half hour. He cruised the quiet streets of the town of seven thousand and found Orville with his feet sticking out the driver’s side door of his cruiser and his head stuffed somewhere up under the - 84 -

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dash. Pulling up alongside the old Ford, Rex whooped his siren and called out, “You hot wiring that car, boy?” Orville scrambled out the car with eyes bright with anger. “Logan, I’ll kick your lily white ass!” Rex parked his car and backtracked on foot, laughing. Orville leaned against the fender of his cruiser and guzzled the rest of a frosted beer. He gestured with the empty can. “I got a cold one inside if you want to fetch it for yourself, asshole.” Rex went after the offer one and grabbed a couple of warm muffins on his way out. He perched himself on the fender of his car and popped the tab to the beer. “I take it you were checking out the radio.” “Ain’t the radio’s fault, that’s for damned sure. There’s static in the air.” “You’re the electronics whiz. What’s causing it?” “Ozone, I would have guessed. Them green meteors would have kicked up enough of it, except the fireworks are over. I figure the reception would clear up by now.” Rex glanced at the bright morning sky. “Maybe the fireworks aren’t over. Any of those meteors show up about town?” Orville gave a nervous shrug. “Found some gouged earth here and there, and some soot. Don’t know where the rocks went. I sent some local kids out to check for fires, so I’m guessing they carted off anything they found. The stuff ain’t radioactive or anything like that, is it?” Worse, Rex supposed, although it didn’t seem prudent to saddle Orville with his darkest suspicions. “For all we know. Send someone with word of anything you find to Biggs. Tell the kids to keep their hands off. Doc says there’s something damned suspicious about the meteors.” “I don’t like the sound of that,” Orville said. “Neither do I. I’m going to run up to Orange City and - 85 -

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check with Jenkins. It’s best if the three of us stick close to home and cover our own turf. Doc’s expecting help from the National Guard in short order, but Leon’s probably pushed himself a bit too hard.” “I can handle it.” Rex took the back roads to Orange City and was stopped several times by locals with questions he couldn’t answer. Orange City was the largest of the three sister towns lined up along Troll Valley Road. Rex cruised the streets of town until he heard Jenkins’ siren and saw emergency lights sail by a block away. He chased the cruiser for several blocks until Jenkins noticed the tail and pulled to the curb, storming from his vehicle with his usual bluster. Orville used the kids of Cyprus Junction to assist his cause. Dick Jenkins tended to implement the opposite strategy. “I’m chasing the little shits home where they belong!” was his explanation for the lights and siren. “This ain’t no Easter egg hunt!” “See anything yet?” Jenkins surveyed the surrounding hills with a harried expression. “A whole slew came down here and there, maybe one in old Mrs. Patrick’s garden of weeds in the middle of town, but it’s gone now. Somebody ran off with it. No, I haven’t seen anything yet. I guess things are quiet.” Jenkins’ tone of voice became suddenly conciliatory. “What do you say we hit the Blue Hills and have a few cold ones before you leave? This shit is getting to me. What in hell were those damned things anyhow? So many people pooped their pants last night, you can smell it in the air.” Rex gave the temptation to confide in the man some thought, then shook his head. “I gotta get back. The old man’s soused and maybe sick. We’re spread too damned thin without the radios. Just try to keep people away from anything you run across until we get some backup.” - 86 -

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“Yeah, well remind Biggs that we weren’t hired to run our asses twenty-four hours a day. I told him we didn’t have enough people to hold the fort down if things got rough.” Rex drove back to Brighton Hollow thinking his way through a list of trusted locals to be deputized should the blackout last into the week. Doc was waiting on his front porch when Rex pulled to the curb late in the morning. Doc poked a thumb over his shoulder as he approached. “Grab yourself a sandwich and beer.” The ham and cheese was waiting for him on the sink. Rex fetched his second beer of the warming day from the fridge and joined Doc on the front step. “It’s too quiet,” Doc said. Rex wanted to deny Doc’s observation, but the drive along the highway had unnerved him. “Okay, so it’s way too quiet. A whole lot more people should be out and about.” “The meteorites pose a biological hazard, Rex. I’m certain of it.” Rex thought hard and furious about the organic mass and the split shell in Connie’s destroyed bathroom. It had been a nightmare in itself. His mind reeled at the thought of countless numbers of such creatures raining from the night sky. Had anyone encountered them the way Connie had? The notion was more than a sane mind could take. “Connie’s first on your agenda for the day,” Doc said. “She didn’t want to talk about what happened. We need to know everything she can tell us about that thing that bit her. And we need to go door to door and find out if anyone’s sick or missing. The way people around here keep their mouths shut and take the law into their own hand, we could have a crisis on our hands and not even know about it.” Rex nodded weary agreement. Doc’s eyes narrowed. “The second item on your agenda - 87 -

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will be to rile the nest of polecats and wake the sheriff to help deal with this.” Rex chuckled. “I’d rather not.” “You have no choice. You need to catch some sleep while things are relatively quiet.” That much he could agree to. The four hour nap he had managed during the night was already wearing thin. “I’ll have Leon conduct a door to door surveillance of a local neighborhood or two,” Doc said. “Perhaps nothing will come of it after all.” Rex knew better. Something was up. He walked to the car parked at the curb and paused to listen to the silence. Aside from the lack of barking dogs, the locusts had stopped their buzzing. Even the crickets in the grass were quiet. And birds? Rex scanned the skies and saw nothing. It was as if the world was watching and waiting, but watching and waiting for what?

- 88 -

Fourteen

C

aitlin opened her eyes to the morning light. She gazed into the blue sky and watched clouds pass by overhead. For the moment, she could not move. She had slept for a thousand years. Her body had sunk into the earth of its own weight. Memory seeped into her sluggish thoughts. She remembered being bitten by the slug in the shell. She remembered male voices in the darkness. A warm haze held the full horror of those experiences at bay. Even when she tried to sit up and discovered the cocoon adhered to her body, she did not panic. She closed her eyes and weathered a moment of strangeness and horror, then looked down again at the dry, web-wound object stuck to her left hip and stomach. It caused no discomfort. She felt alive and well. And hungry. She was strangely very, very hungry. How had it gotten so big? Her shift was bunched about - 89 -

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her shoulders, and she could no longer pull it down over her body, not with the cocoon attached to her. She reached down and tried to pry the gray mound off her skin with her fingers. It wouldn’t come easily. Gagging with pain and revulsion, she peeled it partially from her inflamed flesh, acquired a better grasp, and then tore it from her body. The cocoon was surprisingly heavy, but it was just a thing now, inanimate and harmless. She threw it aside with a cry of disgust… …and then stared down in horror at the desiccated corpse lying across her bare legs. She jerked her feet from beneath the body with a shriek. Inside the empty shell of clothing, bones rattled, and dry skin rustled like dried newspaper. Caitlin rolled onto her hands and knees with gritted teeth and scurried away, her bare feet kicking a rooster tail of earth into the air. She turned and sat a safe distance way, panting and gawking in confusion and terror crackling at her nerves. She remembered all that had happened, but she took a moment to piece it together in chronological order, Earl and Morris Rather, and Jeremy Berman’s voice. She had heard Jeremy cry out. Just a moment ago, she had kicked what was left of the boy into pieces. She rose unsteadily to her feet to make sure she could escape if she had to. She brushed herself off and weaved an unsteady path to the edge of the clearing. Only then did she dare glance back at the corpse and the cocoon lying near it. The creature in the oyster had bitten her. It had killed Jeremy Berman. Why had it let her live? She didn’t want Leon to know. Would the Rather brothers tell? Not without incriminating themselves, they wouldn’t. If she was lucky, the horror they had witnessed would keep them quiet. She crossed her arms against her body and tried to stop - 90 -

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her shaking. None of it had been her fault. Nobody would blame her for what had happened. She put a hand to the inflamed skin beneath the cotton cloth of her shift thinking that the slug had been defending itself when it had struck out at Jeremy. The boy had been poking it with a stick. But what about herself? What had it done to her? The question didn’t need an answer. She hadn’t been harmed by the horrid creature. She felt surprisingly well, in fact. She was terribly hungry, probably from sleeping so long, but the nightmarish incident was over now. She’d not be anywhere around this awful place when the slug, or whatever it was, emerged from the cocoon. She had no interest in whatever manner of creature it might become. She started back toward home, determined to put the entire incident behind her once and for all. Her very sanity depended upon it. She reached the house without being seen. Leon’s car was gone. She could safely assume he would still be sleeping it off at the jail. Vivian was nowhere in sight, although she could hear her aunt moving somewhere in the house. She slipped upstairs as quiet as a mouse and undressed in her bedroom, dropping the soiled shift into the clothes hamper in her adjacent bathroom. She showered in hot water, scrubbing the red spot on her stomach with soap until the peculiar itching stopped. She put on her last clean shift, the kind she liked to wear in the summer heat, and a new pair of sandals. Her hunger intensified. She rushed downstairs and inspected the refrigerator, tore loose a chunk of ham with her bare fingers, and wolfed it down. It came right back up. She barely made it to the sink before expelling the half-chewed meat. She stood staring at the mess incredulously. What had brought that on? It hardly mattered. She poured herself a glass of milk and gulped it frantically, but stood before the sink just in - 91 -

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case. The milk didn’t taste right going down. It, too, gushed out an instant later. “Aunt Vivian! Call Dr. Kaufman! I’m sick!” Aunt Vivian was washing clothes in the basement. It was the place she hid when Leon drank too much. Vivian hadn’t heard her, and Caitlin reconsidered the wisdom of repeating her cry for help. Dr. Kaufman would ask questions. She would have to tell him about the cocoon to explain the raw patch of skin on her belly. They would then find Jeremy’s body. They would expect her to explain about the cocoon. She didn’t want to go near it again and she didn’t know what had happened, not really. She’d rather starve to death than go back there, although she couldn’t understand how she had gotten so ravenously hungry. She went back up to her room and paced madly, fired with tremendous energy, but growing more and more desperate for something to eat. She clutched her stomach, remembering how good the cocoon had felt attached to her. She hadn’t been at all hungry with the cocoon a part of her. As horrible as it was, it had done her no harm. But what kind of insane sense did that make? The slug was poisonous. It was venomous and evil. It had killed Jeremy Berman, and it had done something to her to make her so hungry. None of that mattered as agonizing minutes crawled by and the hunger intensified. She had no choice but to go back to it. She hurried from the house as quietly as she had entered and fled back through the woods to the clearing. The past few days had been mostly warm and sunny, but it had rained yesterday and it was unfortunate that the weather had chosen this particular day to rain again. Not that the wall of clouds blotting out the sun was in any way relevant to what she had to do. Thunder rumbled from the northwest, - 92 -

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but Caitlin’s thoughts were on the desperate hunger and what would become of her should the cocoon refuse to take her back. She found it lying where she had discarded it. She stuffed it up under her dress and hugged it to her body. Unmindful of the cool rain that began to fall, she rocked to and fro, moaning softly to herself with her eyes wide and unfocused on the gathering gloom. “Please, please hurry!” she cried in the rumbling of the gathering storm, and she had no idea whatsoever of what exactly she was pleading for.

- 93 -

Fifteen

L

eon Biggs awoke to growling thunder. He lay awake on the bunk in a jail cell, refusing to open his eyes to the new day. He groaned as Rex Logan pounded down the stairs and threw the cell door open. “What’s up?” Lean said without bothering to move and hoping he wouldn’t be required to do so. “Doc can brief you, if you don’t mind,” the deputy said sounding like a scared kid, clearly anxious to avoid dealing with the bad temper that usually accompanied his hangover. “I’ve been up most of the night and day. I’ve got to catch some shuteye.” Leon’s only concern for the moment was to send the deputy away. “Yeah, okay. You go catch some sleep.” By the time he heard Rex Logan’s car drive away, his mind had cleared and he knew it imperative that he get up and tackle the new day and whatever crises it held in store. He sat up with a grimace. Angina pains had kept him - 94 -

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awake on and off all night. His chest still hurt, a deep, squeezing pain that warned of his ominous state of health. Maybe the heart attack the doctors had warned about was already in progress. They had told him that it would be fatal, if it happened anytime soon. He had assumed that he would have time to undo some of the damage by dieting and cutting back on the drinking. How could he have anticipated his run-in with Caitlin and the incredible night of the green meteor shower? He tried the phones in the substation, but they and all radio communication were down. He stood staring at the bare wood floor with a frown, trying to determine what that meant on a practical basis. Without communications, there would be very little law and order in the county, and there would be little he could do about it, not without outside help. At least it gave him the opportunity to tend to his own problems first. He drove back to the house, and came up behind Vivian standing at the kitchen counter. He watched her grow rigid with tension as he approached. “Where’s Caitlin?” he said, his voice dry and hoarse and his body filled with pain. “I thought I heard her earlier,” Vivian said in a whisper. “She’s not in the house now.” Leon grunted satisfaction. As long as she hadn’t run away or gone to the deputy for help. Neither of the worst-case scenarios had come to pass so far. He turned away and started up the stairs to shower and change clothes. He paused at the foot of the staircase to rest until he could gather what strength he had to accomplish the feat. “I made coffee,” Vivian said from somewhere behind him. “Do you want something to eat?” Food and drink would only make the pain worse, but he backtracked and sat at the kitchen table to catch his breath. And when the moment of silence lingered, he looked up. - 95 -

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Vivian stared at him worriedly. Leon shook his head in dismay. The woman had the backbone of an earthworm. He had never quite determined whether their relationship was symbiotic or parasitic. If parasitic, who was feeding upon whom? She cooked and cleaned the house. She had cared for Caitlin and hadn’t screamed rape down through the years when he had taken advantage of her from time to time. But she had gotten a great deal in return, including an insurance policy worth a couple hundred thousand. Who would come out ahead in the end? “Sorry for the fuss, yesterday,” he said. “I’ll make it up to the girl.” Vivian turned away and began putting dishes in the sink. “Do you want to talk about it?” he said. “Do you have anything to say to me?” She stared into space, a slave to her cowardice and pathological dependency. She stood bent slightly at the waist, rigid with tension and rife with misery. Leon sighed. “Vivian, give me a break. I’m an old man. I had me a beautiful wife and a lovely daughter once upon a time. My beautiful wife killed herself because I was of no importance to her, and my lovely daughter prances around the house like some wood nymph from a Greek fairy tale. She takes the toys I give her without a word of thanks, and hates my guts.” “It ain’t right,” she said softly. “You have me, damn you.” Leon’s mouth dropped open in astonishment. “The last time I had a go at you, Vivian, you threw up in my face. Do you remember that?” Vivian dipped her head even further and turned crimson. “You’re a self-sacrificing woman. I’ll give you that and nothing more. You’ve loathed me from the day you followed Katrina and her baby to this house. I’ve had no relationship - 96 -

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with either of you to speak of. I’ve served no purpose except to provide for you.” She finally looked around, her eyes as cold and narrow as a snake. “Caitlin is your daughter.” “Hardly,” Leon said evenly. “And you both damned well remind me of it constantly.” Tears came to Vivian’s eyes. She rushed silently by and vanished into the bowels of the house. Leon got a bottle of whiskey from the cupboard, hoping to dull the pain, both physical and spiritual. The thought that Caitlin would brave the cold and the rain rather than accept the warm bedroom he had provided set his chest to aching even worse. It was, he decided, time to back off and set things right before the bitterness eating at his gut drove away the only two people in the world of any importance to him. Unless, of course, it was already too late. It was easy to be repentant when he was sober, except that he couldn’t stand the misery of a clear mind for any extended period of time. Vivian sobs echoed in the quiet house. Leon sipped on the bottle and watched the rain fall, wishing Caitlin would come home to him and curl up in his lap as she had as a child. When his own eyes filled with tears, he took a hefty swig of his cheap whiskey and put a quick end to his foolishness.

- 97 -

Sixteen

R

ex Logan returned home to his own rented apartment for the first time in weeks. The closed rooms had accumulated unpleasant odors wafting up from the meat market below. Connie had thrown windows open, but the gray, rainy day and cloying humidity did little to alleviate either the smell or the gloom of faded wallpaper and worn rugs. The only redeeming factor of the gray morning was the soothing pitter-patter of the rain on the roof and its tinny rattle on the living room air-conditioner protruding out the front window. It would put him to sleep in an instant. Cardboard boxes and brown paper grocery bags filled with clothes and household items littered all three rooms. Connie had replenished his empty cupboards and refrigerator with salvaged food. He could hear her snoring softly from the bedroom. Rex weaved his way through the mess, rummaged through the freezer, and tossed two frozen gourmet dinners into the microwave. He stood zombie-like before the humming - 98 -

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oven, his thoughts deadened by fatigue. When the oven chimed, he made a quick cup of instant coffee and sat down to eat. Fatigue had already stirred vague dreams to life, warning of nightmares to come should he have trouble sleeping. He doubted if Leon would let him sleep as long as he needed. Leon and Connie both. He heard her moan and stir in her sleep from the bedroom, lost in one of her recurring dreams of being lost and unable to find her way home. Reluctantly, he finished eating and went to join her. He stripped on the way and soaked beneath the hot shower before crawling beneath the covers alongside the familiar warm body. He gave himself up to the engulfing need to sleep and tried hard not to worry about her. He tried even harder not to worry about Caitlin out running the woods like a hounded doe. Connie woke him hours later, lying flush against his body. Rex came half awake, hoping she wouldn’t disturb him further. “Rex, are you awake?” she whispered in his ear. “Not unless I’m a glutton for punishment,” he murmured. “Rex, I’m still sick. I’m hungry, and I feel funny.” “Eat.” And with that, he tried to go back to sleep. “I threw up.” “Uh-huh.” “I was having such strange dreams. I’m frightened.” She fell silent for a time. Rex opened his eyes, deciding that further sleep was going to elude him. “What was that thing!” she hissed at him, her breath hot in his ear. “What did it try to do to me?” He wondered about Doc’s paranoid idea that every one of the green meteors might contain the same manner of creature. No sleeping nightmare could compete with a reality of that magnitude. How likely was the possibility? Connie hadn’t thought that far ahead. “I don’t have insurance on the house,” she whispered harshly. “What are we - 99 -

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going to do? We can’t continue to live like this, Rex. We don’t have to put up with this maggot-infested town, not if you take that job in Pittsburgh. We can be married and have children, if that’s what you want. Please. I’ll do anything.” For too long, she had tried too hard. Desperation had crept into her every word and touch. Connie abhorred children. That alone had stipulated that the roots of their relationship not sink too deeply. Trying to make it work had become futile torment for the both of them. Connie fell silent. She thought she had other weapons in her arsenal. They had been lovers for years. She knew every inch of his body and exactly how to arouse him to passion. She had banked on physical passion overpowering his petty sentimentalities, and Rex had done nothing to discourage her. Even their crippled, dead-end relationship was better than nothing, and better than falling prey to Caitlin. Connie ran her fingertips across his body, unaware that his thoughts had drifted elsewhere. He was thinking that naive and unworldly Caitlin Kingsley, a girl with a bounce in her step and eyes bright with boundless enthusiasm and joy for life, would gladly share his simple dreams of home and family. Even as Connie caressed him, balanced as he was on the edge of sleep where dreams were as bright and real as day, he could see Caitlin standing before him. With her hands clasped behind her back, she rocked her slender body to and fro on tiptoes, beaming the smile of an innocent child up at him. She offered him everything she had to give. All he had to do was to reach out and take. Connie wasn’t blind to the danger. Neither was she blind to the wedge that kept him and Caitlin apart, his inability to stand up to Leon Biggs. He shuddered at the thought of what Leon might do should he succumb to the temptation to run off with Leon Biggs’ baby girl. Connie sensed his tension and guessed its nature. She - 100 -

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snatched her hand away and stared at him, angered and puzzled by the man she needed so badly to bend to her will. Rex turned away from her and drew his knees to his chest, trying to shut out the world and its temptations and hazards, but knowing somewhere along the way, he was going to have to decide which way to turn and make a stand. Outside, it began to rain. It thundered, and then it rained hard and quickly lulled him to sleep.

- 101 -

Seventeen

T

he rain came down like a dark gray weight trying to drag the trees to the earth, roaring across the world in great waves of wind and water. Caitlin stood stooped over the dissolving remains of Jeremy Berman, clutching the cocoon to her gut and watching the crumbling bones melt and soak into the ground. The cocoon hadn’t stirred. Nothing at all was happening. She thought again of going to Rex Logan for help. Before that happened, she needed to take shelter against the storm and think about what she would say, how she would try to explain. The downpour tried to drown her. She choked and slipped in the mud on the way back to the house. Blinded by the dusk and the rain, she scratched and cut her arms and legs in the thickets. She followed an old wood fence to the barn behind the house and entered through a hole in the back wall. The rancid odor of rotting hay caught in her throat. With - 102 -

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one last sustained effort, the cocoon tucked beneath one arm, she climbed the ladder to the loft. She retreated to a dry spot against the outer wall on hands and knees, pushing the cocoon before her, and curled up into a ball with her arms covering her head. The rain roared like an enraged animal. Lightning stabbed and sucked the breath from her lungs. Thunder rattled the old barn and vibrated the insides of her body. She cried out her fear and pain and lay weeping until the storm passed overhead and subsided. In time, it became a fading rumble in the distance. She listened to the sound of water trickling through the holes in the roof. A frog croaked from somewhere near outside. From further away, she heard the hooting of an owl. Her bizarre hunger became physical torture. The thing in the cocoon had done it to her. Maybe it wanted her to die. Maybe it wanted something else of her. Her mind raced at the speed of light trying to imagine what it might be. She hugged the musky-smelling object, wishing something would happen to alleviate the pain. She tore at the fibrous outer covering of the cocoon to see what lay inside. The pain of broken fingernails only deepened her misery. The balance of the day and the night that followed lasted forever. During the many quiet hours that passed, her energy began to wane. She’d be dead by morning, she felt certain. Jeremy Berman had been the more fortunate of them after all. It mattered not at all what manner of creature would emerge from the cocoon, not if she died first. The first gray light of dawn shown through cracks in the wall when something nudged her leg. At first, she suspected she was sharing the loft with a rat, but when the movement become more pronounced, she glanced down and saw that whatever lived inside the cocoon was ready to come out into the light of day. - 103 -

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She watched its birth unfold in the first bright rays of sunlight seeping between the slats of the wall. She had no energy to escape, and no fear of the thing that had already made death a thing to be desired. It was dark and furry. A ray of sunlight showed it to be a giant orange and brown caterpillar almost three feet long. It had black eyes like a fly. They flashed metallic in the sunlight, sparkling in all colors of the rainbow. It undulated like a caterpillar. It trilled as it crawled to her, a sound that soothed Caitlin’s jangled nerves. She made not the slightest movement as it crawled up to her face and tickled the side of her neck. She whimpered in discomfort when it bit. She knew about the artery in her neck, the one Leon severed in the deer and pigs he slaughtered to fill the freezer. The caterpillar stabbed deep to reach that particular artery, and it seemed peculiar that it would know exactly where to go. But in the next instant, an even greater miracle occurred. Anyone witnessing the feeding would have thought Caitlin dying. She lay convulsing with her mouth agape and her eyes glazed and staring sightlessly into the dark corners of the barn. On the inside, she burned with fierce pleasure. The venom spreading through her veins set every muscle in her body afire with a sensation akin to the most intense selfinduced orgasm she had ever experienced. She gave a sharp scream into the quiet morning air. The sensation peaked at an unendurable intensity, then settled down to mere inexhaustible pleasure. Caitlin brought both arms up to embrace the creature as it curled alongside her body to rest. The caterpillar had fed her. Maybe it had fed a little bit itself as it adjusted to its new state of existence in the world. Regardless, she couldn’t imagine a better trade, or a better friend to have in the nightmare that her world had become. - 104 -

Eighteen

C

aitlin’s scream pierced the morning dawn and wound Leon Biggs’ nerves to the breaking point. He recognized the shriek from drunken interludes in the past when he had awakened the girl from the depths of sleep by his touch. Slouched in his chair at the kitchen table, he sat up, panicky and disoriented. His chest was a mass of pain. He felt sick at his stomach and light-headed. But he knew where the sound had originated. He knew where Caitlin was hiding. She had never tried to hide in the old barn before. It had never been a place of refuge in the past, not so close to the house. The structure was too clearly dangerous, leaning precariously on its foundation and about to collapse. He rushed out the back way thinking that if she had made herself ill, if she made accusations at the hospital, he would have to live up to the repercussions of his behavior after all. He’d kill himself if that happened. If his heart didn’t get him first, he’d

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put a bullet in his head to show the world the consequence of pushing too hard and expecting too much from a man. The onrushing conclusion to his life startled and frightened him. Six decades had slipped past him far too quickly. He plodded to the barn one step after another, all but incapacitated by the crushing pain in his chest and marginally aware that he’d never survive long enough to commit suicide. He had put off the crises in his life too long. Too many crises. Too little time left to resolve even one of them. He paused in the cool, musty mouth of the barn. It was wetter inside than out in the hot morning sun. Water still dripped from the leaky roof overgrown in moss. Any day now, the whole flimsy framework of rotting wood was going to collapse into the surrounding weeds where it would be left to decompose. Leon scanned the gray shadows of the loft. “Caitlin? Are you in here?” The only ladder to the loft was in the terminal stages of dry rot. If Caitlin wasn’t up there, he’d take the old sledge hammer propped by the door and knock it to pieces to make sure he would never have to look again. But for one last time, he climbed up to the dark loft engulfed in the stench of rotting hay. He saw her almost immediately, a pale mass huddled against the back wall. Her bare legs were in motion, twisting about as if caught in a delirium. “Caitlin?” he cried in alarm. “Have you hurt yourself?” His heart palpitated in his chest amidst the pain. Caitlin was only a child. What if she, too, had sought refuge in death as he had contemplated? What if she had slashed her wrists, or drunk poison? He crawled to her on hands and knees in tears, thinking what a tragedy it would be for young Caitlin to kill herself over the likes of an old fool filled with more bark that bite. - 106 -

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He reached out and grasped a bare foot, feeling the power of the convulsions wracking her entire body. Her skin was on fire. He crept closer to her, all but blinded by the blossoming pain in his chest. “Caitlin, are you sick? You’ll catch yourself pneumonia running the woods in the rain.” He sat cross-legged before her, feeling like a fat child mourning a lost friend. His right arm had gone numb. He cradled it absently in his lap. “Caitlin, it ain’t so bad,” he murmured through his tears. “I never really hurt you. You got good food, a roof over your head. I buy you pretty dresses, don’t I, and all the music you want?” He ran his hand to the calf of her leg, grieving the young body he would never hold in his arms. Had he broken her spirit to bring her to this, the one thing about her that he cherished most of all? It was then that he saw the dark, unidentifiable mass surge near her head and separate itself from her. Ice ran through his veins as Caitlin relaxed, freed from the strange passion that had possessed her. In that instant, Leon sensed danger. For a brief moment, he had the horrible thought that the girl was comatose, that some animal had been gnawing at her body. He had seen it happen in the past, drunken hunters awakening with their face and hands devoured by scavengers in the woods. The creature poised alongside her head had no definable shape. The depth of the mystery associated immediately with the swarms of green meteors that had plowed to Earth night before last. With a cry of alarm, he grasped both of Caitlin’s ankles and tried to pull her away. It struck at him then with a slender gray snake-like tongue that punctured the back of his hand with a black spike an inch or so long. He felt its venom injected into his arm. Shock coursed through his body, and instant paralysis. With his mouth wide, he could not complete his - 107 -

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scream. And he wanted badly to scream. He saw his own hand turn black before his eyes, and his flesh melt away from his bones without breaking the skin. The gray snake-like tongue pulsated, liquefying him inside and sucking him dry. Astonished, he fell to one side, anxious for the painless process to hurry up and finish with him, almost pleased that life should end this way, with punishment, an eternity of hell wrapped up in a compact two or three minutes so that he could get the guilt over with and die in peace. He had never meant to be an evil man. If only Caitlin had known how much he had loved her. Blissful numbness followed in the wake of the pain. Inch by inch, he felt his body die and fall away from him. When the poison touched his heart, he felt it falter. It would have stopped of its own accord soon enough anyhow, so it hardly mattered that it happened in this painless manner. An eerie silence fell upon the darkening world. Consciousness and memories of a lifetime drained away and were whisked into oblivion like delicate strands of spider silk caught in the last sigh of a passing breeze.

- 108 -

Nineteen

C

aitlin heard Leon talking to her as if in a dream. In this particular dream, he, rather than herself, was in danger. Unable to speak or to move, she had no way to warn him to move back out of harm’s way. The caterpillar struck at him, and Caitlin wanted the dream to go away, except that it wasn’t really a dream. She was vaguely aware of what was happening. She could see it happening. The caterpillar stabbed him with its tongue. Now, it inched closer to its victim. It retracted the excess length and bloated itself as it fed. After a time, it began to pee clear water that dribbled between the boards to the stall below, somehow filtering the nourishment of the body and ridding itself of excess moisture. Caitlin wanted desperately to crawl away and die in peace while it was preoccupied. She sensed the hunger would return if she abandoned the caterpillar for even a short period - 109 -

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of time. The caterpillar had poisoned her and taken her prisoner. It had made her its slave, although she could not imagine why. Even though Leon’s body was within her field of vision, her mind blinded itself to the image of his face blackening and caving in. Her eyes refused to see. Her ears refused to hear. She withdrew her consciousness and dissociated. Her sanity was at stake. So close to death and madness, she could see for the first time what hellish things they truly were.

- 110 -

Twenty

V

ivian stood naked in front of the bedroom mirror, comparing herself to the memory of long dead Katrina, and to Katrina’s daughter, Caitlin. Even as a young woman, she had never matched the beauty of either. What had she expected? Had she thought she could take Katrina’s place at Leon’s side and raise Caitlin as her own child? She had certainly tried. She had allowed Leon to have his way with her to fulfill that role, although she had never for a moment loved him. Men had always been strangers to her. She had never trusted any of them. Leon had taken what she had offered, but she had been no more able to take Katrina’s place in his heart than a lump of coal could have filled in for a diamond. Vivian closed her eyes to the visage of the old woman she had become. She cried for her lost youth, and for Leon’s as well. For the first time, she sensed the depth of despair from which the self-hatred of all suicidal urges arose. Katrina had - 111 -

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ended her life when things were bad, but hardly before discovering how truly torturous life could become. She had once imagined Katrina happy in God’s heaven, smiling down at her thriving daughter and her dutiful half sister. Leon and his typical male pragmatism had undermined and destroyed her naive fantasies, but she could see now that he had been right. How could simple death hope to undo a life of suffering? Heaven would be forever a place of torment beneath the weight of such memory. Vivian looked upon herself and imagined Leon putting his hands upon her. She wanted his attention and his affection, but she felt no passion stir in her, giving her nothing of any value to share with the only man in her life. If she was honest with herself, she understood Leon’s obsession with Caitlin, and she was jealous, just as Leon had accused. Leon committed no sin. They were all simple victims of human nature. She dressed and went downstairs and busied herself with an early dinner, clear minded, at the very least, about her value to Leon as a housekeeper. She put a pot roast in the crock pot to simmer and peeled potatoes. She could not keep her mind off the past. She remembered how her young stepsister, a young Katrina Kingsley and Frank had ran off into the hills to have sex in the late afternoons, how she had followed and watched, thinking that Katrina was being exploited by the hands and body of that handsome young man. How utterly foolish she had been. When Caitlin had been born, she had practically raised the infant while Frank and Katrina made the rounds of the taverns and bars in Culverton at night. Often, they didn’t even bother to come home at all. She had been critical, but Katrina had accused her of living in a sterile fantasy world, watching on the sidelines while real people lived real lives. But if real living meant enduring the abuse Katrina had - 112 -

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suffered, she had wanted nothing of it, although it had never been young Frank who had beaten Katrina. The two should never have defied Iris, the Isbek matriarch, at a time when a feud between the Kingsleys and the Isbeks raged among the hills outside Culverton. Vivian had left with Katrina rather than allow Caitlin to slip away from her forever. They hadn’t traveled far before finding refuge. Leon had taken them in, captivated by Katrina’s beauty, never seeing the pain behind her shallow smile. They had all harbored their own destructive misperceptions of the world. Katrina’s difficulties had never justified suicide in Vivian’s opinion. Leon had naively assumed that feminine beauty implied a loving and emotionally balanced woman. He had thought his house, his position of power, and his money would be enough to win Katrina’s heart. And then he had allowed hapless Caitlin to become his last anchor to a relationship that had slipped so tragically through his fingers. And Vivian’s own personal undoing? Fear of human passion. Passion drove men and women to procreate and to murder. She had thought she could live without both and be a superior, far more moral individual. Instead, she had only isolated herself and fostered a dependency she could not escape. Vivian cooked and pondered the past and the error of her ways, waiting for Leon to return from the barn. She had heard him go out the back way. She supposed he had gone in search of Caitlin, and pressed her thin lips together, slicing the spiraling skins from a bowl of potatoes with renewed vigor. Caitlin had her own pitfalls to contend with, the typical ignorance and inexperience of youth. The young believed that love could conquer all. Caitlin came bounding into the kitchen right in the middle of Vivian’s upset. Vivian studied her radiance in shock, suspecting with dismay that the girl had finally managed to - 113 -

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seduce the young deputy. “Don’t look at me like that, Aunt Vivian,” Caitlin chortled. “It’s a beautiful morning, don’t you think?” But her eyes were too bright and her smile too strained. “Have you seen Leon, child?” Vivian asked cautiously. Something terrible had happened. Caitlin was masking panic. Caitlin gave an exaggerated shrug. “Who cares? Maybe he’s turned into an old bag of dried up bones and won’t ever bother either of us ever again.” Caitlin looked over Vivian’s makings for dinner and wrinkled her nose. “Yuk!” “How can you not be hungry?” Vivian asked soothingly. “Where have you been all night? What have you been doing?” Caitlin shook her head disdainfully and bounded back out the back door rather than face the interrogation. “I’m going out to play in the woods, Aunt Vivian! It’s such a beautiful day!” Vivian followed as far as the door. She watched as Caitlin took an orange fur off the side of a tree in the yard. She put it about her neck and ran off in strides so long that her shift flew up past the swell of her tanned hips. The knife Vivian was holding slipped from her fingers and clattered to the floor. Something was dreadfully wrong with what she had just seen. “Leon?” Leon had been feeling poorly. He could not have gone so far that he wouldn’t have come rushing back at the sound of Caitlin’s voice. She wandered into the back yard calling his name, softly at first, then louder. She stopped at the barn and stood gazing into the maw of gray shadows. “Leon!” Fear bubbled inside her and had nowhere to go. She - 114 -

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could feel him up there in the loft somewhere, dead or dying. Caitlin had taken refuge here during the night. There had been a strange metallic odor about her, and she could detect the same peculiar smell here as well. Besides, where else could she have found shelter from the storm? Leon had investigated and he had most certainly found her. What terrible thing was happening? Burdened with a deadly feeling of dread and a choking sensation of being utterly alone, she hurried back to the house. She tried the phone in the kitchen, but the handset was rife with more static than ever. The car was parked in the drive, and Rex had given her a spare key, but too rattled to think straight, she fled down the drive on foot, imagining she could run like the wind like she had seen Caitlin do. She stumbled to a crawl within mere yards, gasping for air, then pivoted in place in the middle of the highway, round and round, screaming from the depths of profound helplessness for somebody to help her.

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Twenty-one

T

he world let Rex sleep. He didn’t understand why, but neither did he question his suspicious fortune. A pounding on the door downstairs awoke him. He opened his eyes to a cool evening and took a moment to reorient himself. Remnants of a bad dream sloughed away and fell back into the depths of his subconscious. Connie rolled over at his side, groaned, and slept again. He pulled on his pants and went down the stairs to investigate. Deputy Orville Jackson stood at the door, looking harried and angered. “About time, man! It’s sure the hell is nice that you get to sleep, but where the hell’s Biggs?” Rex gave his sluggish thoughts a moment to come up with a likely possibility. He couldn’t think of a single one. He stepped out into the dying sunlight and looked up and down the deserted street. “What’s happening?”

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Orville threw up his arms. “Without a fucking phone or a radio, how the hell should I know what’s happening?” It was as if the world beyond the surrounding hills had ceased to exist. If the phones were still down, there should have been state and federal authorities out and about organizing law enforcement and relief efforts. There should have been more people on the highway checking out the reason for the communications breakdown. Rex shaded his eyes and studied the empty skies, and the empty streets. “What came down in them fucking green things to cause all this?” Orville said, his eyes white against his black skin, and his sweat-covered face a mask of honest and open fear. Rex shook his head absently. “I’m not sure. I’m not sure I want to know.” “Logan, you bastard, how can you sleep with all this shit going on?” Except that there was nothing specifically amiss with the world that he could put a finger on. It was still Rex’s hope that the eerie quietness about town was caused by nothing more than a nervous population sitting tight until the blackout ended. Orville, though, was clearly a card-carrying member of that nervous population, and one not likely to wait out an explanation. “I’ll find Biggs,” Rex told the man. Go home and catch some sleep yourself. You look like shit.” “Yeah, well it’s nice that you got your beauty sleep, Snow–fucking-White. I’m not going to get any of it myself. I got four missing persons reports to give Biggs, four little girls that some bastard might have gotten a hold of. Nuts come creeping out of the woodwork when things go wrong. You know how that works.” Rex quickly sobered to the news. “Are you joshing me?” “I ain’t joshing you, man! I got people looking for their kinfolk! Get your ass out here and you’ll find out for - 117 -

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yourself! They’re not going to come to you! You gotta go to them, because there ain't nothing you can do to help them!” Rex gave a nervous nod of agreement. He’d have to check it out. “I’ll find Biggs and get back to you.” Orville reached out hesitantly and patted Rex on the shoulder as apology for his upset, then swung away and hurried back to his car with his fists still clenched at his sides. Rex felt a twinge of guilt watched him drive away with squealing tires. He had been hoping the county would weather the blackout without coming unglued. Orville was right about the nut cases using the confusion of an emergency as cover for a criminal act of one kind or another. One drunken sheriff and three full-time deputies would be hard pressed to cover so much territory without a means of communication. He went upstairs, showered, and dressed. Connie sat in a corner of the couch with her knees drawn to her chin, looking haunted, but knowing better than to challenge him now. Rex drove to the substation and found it deserted. Leon Biggs had a reputation for reliability and a dedication to his job that stopped just short of an obsession. His absence and the absence of his part-time office help spelled trouble. Nobody had showed up for work this bright and sunny morning. Rex made a U-turn and headed up the winding blacktop to Leon’s house. He drove fast and cut the corners short. Keeping an eye open for approaching traffic, the pedestrian in his path caught him by surprise. He missed striking Vivian by inches, throwing the car first toward the trees, then whipping it the other way and enduring a spin-out. When it ended, he jammed the gear select in park and backtracked on foot to the dazed woman walking the centerline. “Something terrible has happened,” she called to him. “Caitlin is acting crazy and I can’t find Leon.” Rex guided the woman by a cupped elbow to the car. He - 118 -

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drove the remaining distance to the house in grim silence. He parked behind Leon’s car and turned to Vivian for further instructions. She gave a slight nod to indicate the yard behind the house. Rex scanned the line of trees in back for some hint of trouble. “The barn,” she said. “I think he’s in the barn.” Rex took the drive and the back yard at a dead run. His first suspicion was that the barn had finally collapsed and that either Leon or Caitlin had been hurt. The barn, though, was intact. He inspected the stalls one by one, then climbed to the loft. The corpse was clearly visible against the dark, moldy hay. Rex gave a start of alarm and all but fell backward off the ladder. He gagged and turned away, waiting for the nausea to pass before he risked backing down the ladder. It wasn’t Leon’s corpse, even if it seemed to be wearing Leon’s clothes. Leon weighed in at a good two hundred and fifty pounds. The sack of bones in the hay looked more like something that had perished in a World War II concentration camp. Jittery and light-headed with shock, Rex made his cautious way back to the car in the drive. He picked up the mike before remembering how useless the device had become. Vivian had taken refuge on the porch, waited for him to either confirm or alleviate her darkest fears. Rex took a seat on the bottom step. The rug had finally been yanked from beneath his feet. For the first time in his life, there was no higher authority to assume responsibility for what was happening, and nobody to tell him what he needed to do to make it right. Vivian crouched on the top step. “Is he dead?” she whispered. “I don’t know if it’s him or not.” Rex looked around at her. “I’ve got to go get Doc. Have you seen Caitlin? Is she okay?” - 119 -

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Vivian gave a rigid nod. “Do you want me to drive you somewhere?” Vivian stiffened with indignation. “This is my home. Mine and Caitlin’s.” “Yes, ma’am.” Leon had a will, and plenty of insurance. Vivian would survive. His decision to go to Doc for help galvanized him to action. He hurried to the car and spun gravel backing onto the highway. When he reached Doc’s home office, he found the waiting room filled with patients, mostly elderly townspeople with fear-filled eyes. He turned to Rhonda, Doc’s red-headed, middle-aged receptionist. “Get Doc. It’s an emergency.” Rhonda gestured with a silent nod, indicating that he wait in the office. Rex paced the paneled cubicle until Doc barged in and struck him on the shoulder with the door. “Biggs is dead,” he blurted. “At least I think it’s Biggs.” Doc turned pale, but assimilated the information in an instant. “Show me.” Doc collected his black bag and had no trouble keeping up with Rex to the car. Rex scanned the face of the houses he passed on the way back. Very few people were up and about. “There’s a body in the loft of the barn,” he said curtly. “It can’t be Biggs.” Doc gave him a reassuring pat on the arm. “Let’s just have a look.” “There were a lot of people in your office. Anyone hurt?” “I’m getting odd complaints from some of the elderly that family members who should have checked on them during the night haven’t shown up. I expected the elderly to take the brunt of this, and now I’ve got all the young people missing. Have you received any missing persons reports?” “Orville’s got some kids missing.” The ride was a brief one. Rex drove to the base of the drive and let Doc take the lead to the barn. Vivian joined - 120 -

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them. Rex pointed to the loft. “Up there. The ladder’s not too steady. Be damned careful.” Doc put his bag down and managed the climb one step at a time. He paused at the top for a time, then crawled into the loft and moved out of sight. Rex went up after him and found him squatting fearlessly alongside the corpse. “Well, what the hell,” Doc muttered in astonishment. “Are these Leon’s clothes?” Doc picked up a twig at his feet. Like a morbidly curious ten-year-old, he poked at the corpse’s ribcage where the white dress shirt had ridden up to expose bare skin. The light jabbing pushed the stick through the skin and broke a rib. Part of the ribcage collapsed in a heap of dust. Doc shook his head in dismay. “This body is completely desiccated.” “It can’t be,” Rex said. “It rained last night.” Doc looked around in surprise. Rex picked up a fistful of sodden hay from the floor. “See? And the clothes are wet along the bottom.” Doc nodded reluctant agreement. “So how’s come it hasn’t turned to mush?” Rex said. “How did it get all dried out to begin with?” Doc inspected bones of a hand that had soaked up some moisture and softened. He explored a bit further into the depths of the corpse with his stick. “Look at this.” Doc pulled the shirt back with two fingers and pointed to where the wood below the corpse had been bleached and eaten away. The hay beneath the corpse had been turned to the consistency of oatmeal. “This body has been exposed to a acid,” Doc said, “or a powerful digestive enzyme. There’s a peculiar metallic odor to it. I can’t quite place it.” - 121 -

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Rex swallowed hard. “Leon was a big man, Doc. Where did it all go?” Doc shrugged. He backed away on hands and knees and went carefully back down the ladder. Rex followed and stood off to one as Doc questioned Vivian. Vivian said that she been hiding in the basement from Leon and Caitlin’s fight. She had heard Leon go out earlier in the day. Caitlin had visited briefly and had been acting strange. “What is happening?” she asked frantically. Doc took Rex’s arm and drew him off to one side. He wiped a sheen of sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his shirt. “My suggestion would be to find the girl and question her.” “Is that Leon up there?” Rex asked anxiously. “Assume it is for now. You’ll need to run a report of this to the National Guard in Culverton. I felt there may have been a biological threat associated with those meteorites that fell. I think we’ve found it.” Rex was startled by connection between the shooting stars and Leon’s death. His own limited imagination hadn’t been willing to stretch so far. His agitation grew to unbearable proportions. “What am I going to do? If that’s Leon up there, who’s in charge now?” Doc eyed him severely. “You’re in charge. Orville and Jenkins don’t have it in them. Nobody’s going to question your authority.” Rex nodded agreement, at least for the moment. “Okay, but I can only do so much.” “Pay the other two deputies a visit. Maybe they know something we don’t. I’ll try to piece together what I can while you’re gone. We’ll have help with this soon, I promise.” Rex envisioned convoys of trucks dispatching hordes of armed troops into the surrounding countryside by nightfall. The meteors had come down everywhere. The threat - 122 -

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would be everywhere. “The Army can handle this,” he muttered hopefully. Rex put his hand on the butt of his holstered revolver, surprised at how badly his hand trembled. But his job was clearly outlined for him. He had to identify and find the thing that had killed Leon Biggs and blow it back to whatever hell in the sky it had came from. And he had to do it before it struck again within the close circle of what few friends he had left in the world. He eyed Vivian before turning away. “If you see Caitlin, make her stay in the house. Lock the doors and the windows. Tell her I won’t let anything hurt her, not ever again. Tell her everything will be okay from now on.” Vivian managed a fleeting smile. “Yes, I do suppose it will.”

- 123 -

Twenty-two

V

ivian wandered the empty house alone for the balance of the day, not knowing whether to grieve Leon’s death or to rejoice. The silence was deafening. Every few moments her memory would lapse, and she would imagine she heard Leon’s footsteps on the porch. In time, she grew accustomed to the new reality. Leon’s absence began to penetrate through to her stream of consciousness and make itself at home. Leon Biggs was dead. The constant tension of waiting for his arrival home every night had been lifted from her shoulders forevermore. She felt as if she might rise from the floor and float away in a delirium of happiness. At the same time, the world teetered on the brink of catastrophe. What had killed Leon? Why were the phones and the radios out? Vivian went to bed at dusk, too frightened to wander the dark house alone waiting for Caitlin’s return. When she heard - 124 -

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the back door downstairs open and close and the shuffle of footsteps on the stairs, she pulled the sheet covering her to her chin. Caitlin’s approach in the dark terrified her as much as the thought of Leon’s ghost returning to haunt her. The bedroom door creaked open. “It’s me,” Caitlin said softly. Vivian pulled the covers to her chin. “I’m in bed, child. How can you see in the pitch dark?” The bedsprings at the foot of the bed protested Caitlin’s weight. Despite the hour, Caitlin was wide awake and alert. The metallic sweetness still clung to her. “I’m sorry about Leon,” Caitlin said softly. “I wished he would have just left me alone.” Vivian’s teeth chattered in fear. “Please tell me what happened?” “I didn’t do anything, Aunt Vivian. I have a friend, is all. It protected me.” Vivian couldn’t imagine the kind of friend Caitlin was talking about. She sensed that Caitlin wasn’t talking about a man. “I don’t understand what you mean.” “Leon got bit by an animal,” Caitlin said. Vivian went cold with dread. “Oh, I see.” “It’s better that he’s gone,” Caitlin said. “I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t afraid of him. And now I’m not afraid anymore.” Vivian felt it as well. For the first time in as long as she could remember, the house felt safe and secure. “Are you angry with me, Aunt Vivian?” “I’m not angry with you, child. But it’s late. You should be in bed sleeping.” Caitlin laughed. “Oh, Aunt Vivian, I can’t sleep.” She bounced to her feet. “I can’t stay too long. My friend is waiting outside.” - 125 -

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Vivian bolted upright in bed. “Caitlin, please. You’re all I have left now. Where will you go? What will you do?” Caitlin sighed hard. “I can’t think about those things right now. Auntie, I just have to go.” Without a sound, she was gone. “Caitlin?” Vivian threw the covers back. She hurried downstairs, feeling her way along the wall, and parted the blinds in the living room in time to watch Caitlin pause on the highway out front, burning with a strange energy Vivian had never seen before. Caitlin picked a dark fur off the front fence and put it around her neck, just as she had seen her do earlier in the day. This time, Vivian saw the fur move, and her breath caught in her throat. Caitlin walked nonchalantly away and vanished from view, undisturbed by the cold, wet wind blowing in from the northwest. Isolation closed upon Vivian like the jaws of a vice. Be careful what you pray for that you might be blessed with your wishes, her mother had once warned her. In the secrecy of her thoughts, she had prayed more than once for Leon’s death. She had yearned for it almost daily. She had not expected to lose Caitlin as well. In leaving the house, Caitlin had emptied it completely. And to be alone was to be without purpose and to be a plaything of predators, the human kind of predator, and maybe something new unleashed into the world. She fled back up the stairs to the safety of her bed and tried to fight fire with fire by closing her eyes to darkness. Fear, however, was not a thing to be held at bay by closed eyelids. It fed upon itself, preying upon her imagination and growing in an ever expanding cycle into a nightmare of mind-destroying proportions. Her screams filled the house. Caitlin heard them a - 126 -

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quarter mile away. She paused, but could do nothing to help Aunt Vivian. As helpless as anyone else in the world, she bowed her head to the wind and picked up her pace until the awful noise faded away in the roar of thrashing treetops.

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Twenty-three

S

he had no choice but to wander. She could not sleep. She walked down Troll Valley Road at a brisk pace, burning excess energy and trying to keep herself from thinking too much. Despite herself, she felt good about being out and about in the night and the wilderness. She felt more alive than she could ever remember feeling. A strong feeling of expectancy filled her to the brim. Something marvelous was going to happen. Something new had come into the world to change things forever. An hour may have passed. A car came roaring up from behind her. Headlights snapped on high beam, pinning her in their glare as she turned about to confront the intruders. Earl Rather sat hunched behind the wheel of his pickup truck. Two or three boys sat in the front seat with him, lined behind the dusty windshield. Morris Rather and a couple of others stood in the truck bed, banging the cab and yelling at the top of their lungs. - 128 -

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Earl swerved to hit her at the last instant. His sheer murderous intent caught Caitlin off guard, but not the caterpillar. An instant before she was struck, the caterpillar leaped clear with superhuman reflexes. The impact with the front fender sent her careening into the weed-filled drainage ditch. She hit ground hard enough to knock the wind from her lungs. Truck tires slid on the gravel shoulder of the road. The engine clattered to a stop. Doors slammed. Footsteps came pounding back to where she lay. “That’s her,” Earl muttered in a deep and angry tone of voice. “That’s the bitch that killed Jeremy Berman.” They dragged her by her hair to her feet, walked her into the glare of the headlights, and threw her down again. When she scrambled to her hands and knees, Earl shoved her back down with his foot and put the barrel of a shotgun to her chest. “Why are you still alive, bitch? That thing was stuck to you! It bit Jeremy and killed him deader than a doornail!” “I saw it, too,” Morris muttered remorsefully. “His face turned black.” Earl poked her with the shotgun. “How did you get away? What in hell was it doing to you?” Caitlin lay on her back, propped up by her elbows. “It was making me its friend,” she shot back at him, “because I was the first to find it.” “That gray piece of meat?” Earl grimaced and shook his head. “You’re full of shit, Caitlin. You probably don’t even know what happened. It was something from the meteors that fell. We want the nasty little fucker so that we can kill it.” “If you even get close, it’ll just kill you, too,” Caitlin said. “You had better go away before it’s too late.” Earl gave her a brutal poke with the gun and turned away with a disappointed scowl. “You ain’t just gonna leave her here, are you, Earl?” - 129 -

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Morris said worriedly. “Let me have her. Please? Just once? It’ll hardly take a minute.” Earl laughed at his brother’s foolishness. “Morris, you ass, if you want her that bad, hell, don’t let me stop you.” Morris’ face lit up with joy. He pulled Caitlin to her feet and shoved her toward the dark underbrush. “Hang on there a moment, little brother.” The crowd laughed nervously. Morris looked worriedly about. “If we let you have all the fun,” Earl said, grinning, “you gotta put a show on for us. Do it right here. Right here on the ground in the light so that we all can watch.” “Ah, Earl!” “If you’re gonna pork that cute ass, we want front row seats.” Morris glanced back at Caitlin with an anxious frown, but he shrugged and began tugging impatiently at her clothing. Caitlin grabbed the boy’s wrist, blinded by sudden anger. Morris tried to wrestle free of her grip. He laughed at her boldness at first, confident of his ability to overpower her. He blanched as her grip began to cut off the circulation in his arm. “Earl, she’s hurting me!” Earl barked astonished laughter. “What do you mean she’s hurting you? She’s just a girl. Don’t be such a wimp, Morris. Just get on with it.” The caterpillar had done this to her. It was part of the tremendous energy she felt. It had made her strong. Morris slapped at her with his free hand. Caitlin grabbed his other wrist and twisted harder, livid with more anger than she could control. She forced Morris to his knees. He threw his head back and howled in pain. The laughter of the crowd fell into confused silence. Sensing that his brother was in genuine danger, Earl - 130 -

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lunged forward, swinging the stock of the rifle toward the side of Caitlin’s head. She could have ducked out of his way. Before the need arose, the caterpillar struck. It leaped upon her shoulder from the ground, knocking her forward a step or two. On the peripheral edge of her vision, she saw the long gray tongue lash out and catch Earl alongside the face. Earl reared back and went rigid, his lips curled back from his teeth. Both barrels of the shotgun exploded harmlessly into the air. The caterpillar then hopped onto his toppling body, accompanying him on his fall to the ground. One of Morris’ wrists snapped. Caitlin looked down at her forgotten assailant and snatched her hand away from his suddenly limp fingers. As he screamed, their remaining audience began to back away in horror. One by one they turned and fled into the trees. Morris scampered to his feet, clutching his broken wrist, and stared wide-eyed at his dying brother. Caitlin had seen it happen to Leon. She looked away in time to avoid the horror of watching Earl’s face melt into his skull. Morris wasn’t so fortunate. He blanched, turned blindly away, and stumbled off into the trees. Numbed by the fury of the attack and its unexpected outcome, Caitlin returned to the highway and continued walking. If she had been endowed with superhuman strength, she could easily outdistance the caterpillar before her hunger started to bother her again. No matter how unpleasant her death, it would at least break the horrible cycle of killing and feeding she could see building. It didn’t work out that way. She walked for what seemed like hours, knowing deep down that when the hunger struck, she’d not be able to resist. When it finally began to burn inside her, even as gentle as it was, it was far more profound than she - 131 -

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remembered. The sheer intensity of it stopped her cold in her tracks and spun her around. In a cloud of horror greater than anything her victims could have experienced, Caitlin stumbled back down the highway, her foolish notions of suicide abandoned. Regardless, she would never find the caterpillar in the darkness. She had left it miles behind her. If it had wandered into the forest and gotten lost, she had accomplished nothing but to condemn herself to living hell. Despite her fears, she came upon the creature far quicker than she would have thought possible. It had been following her. It leaped onto her leg and crawled to her shoulder without hesitation. She dropped to her knees and cocked her head to help it locate the position of the artery by which it would feed her. It bit without hesitation and filled her veins with sustenance and pleasure beyond human endurance. The bitter sweet sensation spread everywhere. She collapsed face down upon the pavement gasping for air, fully aware now of how her relationship with the caterpillar worked. The caterpillar was using her to find its victims. It fed upon them, then fed her in turn. Together, they were a team. The caterpillar was a predator, and she its slave and bait.

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Twenty-four

E

arly Tuesday morning, thirteen-year-old Mickey Anderson rounded the corner in downtown Brighton Hollow on his Honda scooter. He spotted Deputy Rex Logan leaving the Brighton Hollow Sheriff’s Office, swung the screaming red machine around, and slid to the curb alongside the deputy. “Doc says to go to his office right now. Morris Rather got his arm busted.” Rex drove to the office, his drive to Cyprus Ridge and Orange City postponed for the moment. He could hear Morris screaming a half block away. Rex burst into the examination room in time to watch Doc administer an injection. Morris’ face went lax, his eyes wide with confusion and fear. His eyes rolled up to show only the whites and he fell back against the leather upholstered table. Doc put his instruments aside and peeled off his latex gloves. Bleeding scratches filled every square inch of Morris’ exposed skin surface, evidence of a panicky flight through - 133 -

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heavy underbrush. His clothes were torn. He had pissed in his pants. If the odor was any indication, he had shit them as well. Rex kept silent while Doc attended the swollen and discolored wrist. “I had a great grand-pappy who did this without the miracles of modern medicine,” Doc commented while he worked. “Personally, I’m going to miss it.” “Broken?” “Crushed like a pretzel. All I can do for now is splint it.” “What happened?” Doc gathered the materials for a splint, two wooden paddles, gauze, and tape. “Some kids brought him in telling some wild tale about Caitlin breaking his wrist with her bare hands, and something about a big caterpillar melting Earl’s face. Sounds worrisome, doesn’t it?” Rex felt suddenly sick. “Where did this take place?” “Ask the kids. Word’s undoubtedly spread by now.” Rex drove the streets of Brighton Hollow at random. He pulled two local youths on bicycles to the curb with a whoop of his siren and grilled them for details. One of the boys tattled willingly. “Jeremy Biggs got ate up and they said Caitlin’s got some big bug that did it. I think the truck is out north near the top of the hill. Everybody’s afraid to go up and check it out.” Rex drove to the site and found the truck parked off the road. He swung a quick U-turn without stopping and went back to fetch Doc Kaufman. Morris was sleeping peacefully on the examination table when he returned, his neatly splinted wrist lying in a sling about his neck and hand-printed instructions tucked into his shirt pocket. Doc grabbed his bag and a light jacket and turned to the door. “You just going to leave him like that?” Rex queried. Doc visibly restrained his impatience. “I have four elderly lying dead in their beds waiting for Wallace’s Mortuary to give me a call. I have two diabetics who are going to die if I can’t find a source of insulin. I’m out. I had my receptionist’s boy - 134 -

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run to Culverton, but he hasn’t as yet returned. I’ve heard rumors of rioting there, and another who says that anyone who wanders too far from Brighton Hollow isn’t likely to find their way back. I don’t as yet know why, and I really need to know why.” Rex parked alongside the abandoned pickup after the short drive and spotted Earl’s body in an instant. Doc hurried on ahead and stood over the corpse looking confused and helpless. The morning’s dew had reduced the bones to a chalky imprint among the weeds. “It’s Earl, okay,” Rex said, recognizing the bib overalls. His heart raced at a thousand miles an hour. “But I sure don’t understand how Caitlin’s involved.” Doc stared off into space, thinking. “We have to find her. We absolutely must find her.” “I’ll find her.” Rex turned grimly away from the remains, trapped in a constant surf of goose-flesh running along his spine. Secretly, another and higher priority vied for his attention. Orville had spoken of missing locals. “I’d better make a run to Cyprus Ridge to see what Orville’s up to. Doc, I think we have big trouble on our hands.” Doc kept pace with him to the car. “I’ll ride along, if you don’t mind.” “What about your patients?” “I need to know what is happening. Maybe then I’ll be of use to my patients.” Rex drove away from town not liking the idea of leaving Brighton Hollow unguarded during the course of the day. When he stopped to think about it, Brighton Hollow was actually far from helpless. The town and surrounding communities were, in fact, armed to the teeth and a stubbornly independent lot. He couldn’t count the number of good men and excellent shots Brighton Hollow could call upon in a time of crisis. - 135 -

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Troll Valley Road was deserted. The few cars on the highway were nonlocal and traveling fast. Cyprus Junction itself appeared abandoned. Most of the business district was closed. A few store owners had nailed boards across shattered windows. Doc sat up as they paused at a traffic light on a deserted side street. “Did you hear that?” Rex couldn’t have missed the distant, echoing sound of a gunshot. He tried the radio out of sheer, unstoppable habit and cringed when the static roared at him. A steady crackling of intensifying gunfire led him toward the northeast end of town. Rounding a final corner in a residential area, he spotted Orville’s blue and white cruiser parked sideways halfway down a dead-end street. Orville and several armed civilians stood behind the car facing a large white house at the end. The sporadic gunfire came from trees surrounding the house. Rex pulled to the curb well back from the scene. He stood alongside his car in helpless dismay, watching sustained gunfire break windows and chip paint and wood from all sides of the two-story dwelling. Orville ran back to greet the newcomers, cringing at the crack of a high-powered deer rifle returning fire from the house. “Man, I’m loosing it!” Orville’s eyes were bloodshot and wild with panic. “One man can’t hold the hold a town together by hisself, so I deputized everyone with a gun and look what I get! Nobody obeys orders!” Orville wiped sweat from his eyes and glanced back at the gunfight. “Fuck it. I’m getting out of uniform and into civilian clothes, and I’m not driving Biggs’ cars no more. I’m getting shot at by white supremacists, preached at by holy rollers, and yelled at by everybody who thinks I’m the one that’s gotta bring it all under control.” Orville took a few deep breaths to calm himself. “The stores are going to be out of food. People got babies to feed. I - 136 -

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send some kids into Culverton to check things out. Half of them didn’t come back. One got his car stolen. The others say it’s worse than it is here. People scrambling for food, gasoline, hoarding, bickering. Kids running around at night getting into all kinds of mischief.” Orville’s eyes were white orbs against his black skin. Tears joined the sweat on his face. “And fucking skeletons, all dried up and crumbly. With clothes on.” Orville looked about wildly. “God, I’m scared. This can’t be happening!” “What’s with the shooting?” Rex demanded, appalled that a gun battle could be on the tail end of Orville’s priorities. “Maniac’s been dragging little girls into his basement,” Orville muttered in abject misery. “Broke into a house down the way and abducted a fourteen-year-old right in front of her family. They’re telling me the father got bit by a furball on the crazy dude’s shoulders and turned into a skeleton right in front of their eyes. The bastard must have two or three girls in the house by now. I’ve gotta get them out of there.” Doc gave Rex a knowing look. Whatever was happening in Brighton Hollow was bound to be happening everywhere. “We’d like to capture that man alive, if at all possible,” Doc said calmly. “Yeah, well, tell that to my posse!” Excited shouts came from the trees surrounding the house. A volley of gunfire covered a man with a Molotov cocktail running from the trees in back. He lobbed the bottle with its burning tail through an unseen window. Following the initial fireball, black smoke began pouring from the back and side windows of the house as other fire bombs found their mark. Within moments, the house was engulfed in flames. A man charged out the front door. He had pistols in both hands, firing at his unseen gallery who returned sustained fire from the trees. Once in the open, a thunderous volley of gunfire - 137 -

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blew the man into exploding pieces of flesh and gouts of blood before he even had time to fall to the ground. Rex expected the vigilante group to storm the house to rescue the abducted children Orville had mentioned. Instead, they quickly vanished back into the trees and watched the house burn from a safe distance. “There’s a monster in there,” Orville said. “I swear to God, Rex, he had this thing around his neck. It kills people.” Doc came around the front of the car and gave Rex a gentle shove. “Go take a look. I’m right behind you.” Overpowering curiosity gave him no choice in the matter. If Caitlin was involved in this, he had to see the face of the enemy for himself. He had to know before the house burned to the ground. He unsnapped his holster and drew his thirty-eight caliber service revolver. In his eagerness to investigate the mystery, Doc rushed on ahead, but paused before going inside the house. The ascending flames and smoke had cut off the second floor and attic from a search, but Rex could see through a ground floor connecting hall to the kitchen. The basement door hung open. The kitchen walls had been chopped to Swiss cheese by the gunfire. Windows had been turned into irregular-sized holes. The floor was covered in plaster, broken glass, and shards of broken wood. Rex eased his way through the dark house, glancing into a bathroom and dining room as he passed. There was a body on the kitchen table, a small, naked, bleeding corpse of indeterminate sex and age. The idiots who had been shooting blindly into the house had badly mutilated one of their precious victims into an unrecognizable mass of raw flesh. Doc only glanced at the corpse, then followed Rex down the basement stairs. The fire sucked fresh air through the basement - 138 -

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windows. Even so, Rex smelled a sweet, metallic odor in the air. A small, desiccated skeleton devoid of clothing lay sprawled in the middle of the cement floor. A second skeletal imprint leaned against a cement wall. “Watch yourself,” Doc called out. Rex caught sight of movement. Something with orange and brown fur undulated along the foundation, looking for all the world like an over-sized caterpillar. In the next moment, it had launched itself. If the thirty-eight hadn’t been roughly pointed in the right direction, Rex would never have been able to react swiftly enough. He fired from the hip, blasting the rear quarter of the caterpillar into a crimson mist. The insect spun off to one side, writhing and hissing and leaking a fluid that looked like grease. The next shot caught it more squarely and splattered the remains across the basement floor. The bullet ricocheted and whined precariously close to Rex’s head before spending itself in an overhead floor joist. More gunfire sounded from outside in blind reaction to the fired shots. Bullets buzzed and whistled through the house upstairs. Orville’s bellowing voice stopped the shooters. “We’re on fire,” Doc reminded him. “Let’s make this quick.” Smoke crept along the ceiling. The wood overhead was blackening, soon to erupt into open flame. Rex took a final look around and guessed that nothing was left alive. He leaned forward and reached for the biggest piece of the dead caterpillar. Without it, he could prove nothing of what he had seen. “Don’t touch it!” Doc cried. Rex jerked his hand back. “Some of that fluid dissolves flesh,” Doc reminded him. Rex backed away, chilled by his lack of forethought, but thankful he had brought along a second, far more capable - 139 -

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intellect to do some of his thinking for him. The caterpillar would have to wait. He herded Doc up the stairs and out the front way, half expecting to be cut down by gunfire as he emerged into the open. But Orville stood close by with his drawn revolver, holding the impulsive firepower at bay, although only temporarily in control of the situation. “Well?” the deputy roared impatiently. “Did you see it?” “We saw it,” Rex said. “Can we deal with it?” Rex looked to Doc for his assessment. “Kill the insects whenever you have the chance,” Doc said without hesitation. “I don’t understand the symbiosis between the insect and their hosts. Therefore, the hosts may be equally dangerous.” “We’re talking about Caitlin, too,” Rex reminded the old man. Doc just nodded. He started back toward the car, coughing in the acrid haze and looking exhausted. “We can’t handle this, can we,” Orville said, stating the obvious. “Give me the straight dope.” Rex didn’t know what to think. “I’ve got Doc backing me up in Brighton Hollow. If you don’t have any support here, just take care of yourself and your family. You don’t owe anyone your life.” “That’s how I had it figured,” Orville said quietly. His voice quavered. is hulking two hundred pound frame shook from head to foot. “Even so, I don’t know what to do. I hear them caterpillars are all over the hills.” Rex vividly remembered the sky filled with the green meteors, hundreds at any given moment, falling indiscriminately across the face of the earth. Orville turned absently away. Rex resisted the temptation to bid his farewell to his old friend, sensing that the fifteen miles between them might soon become a gulf as great as a thousand. - 140 -

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Rex slipped in behind the wheel of his car. Doc joined him. “Take me home, please. I’ve seen enough.” Rex sat quietly for a time, immobilized by shock and indecision. “But why?” “A futile question to ask,” Doc said, “even should we have the opportunity. You can’t possibly imagine the mind that would know the answer to be a human one.”

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Twenty-five

T

he mayor of Brighton Hollow called a town meeting Tuesday afternoon. The population of town packed a local Methodist church. Rex sat with the group of community leaders on the stage and faced church pews filled with drawn faces. He listened to Mayor Kline’s impassioned pleas for reason and restraint in dealing with the crisis. Visits to Cyprus Junction a day after Rex and Doc’s investigation reported a town all but abandoned by its population. Orange City had fallen prey to another extreme, a gang led by Deputy Richard Jenkins and his cronies. The town had been cordoned off, ostensibly for its own safety. Outsiders were being turned away. He listened to mellow voices explaining how Brighton Hollow would fend better than either Orange City or Cyprus Ridge by virtue of its superior leadership. Aside from gasoline, electricity, and medical supplies, Brighton Hollow was a selfcontained community. Surrounding farms would provide adequate food supplies to last until the cold weather set it, and - 142 -

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wells to supply plenty of fresh water. The town itself would serve as a fortress should the need arise. Rex was then asked to act as commander for a small, armed home-guard that had been assembled and organized before he had even heard about it. He overwhelmingly approved of the selection of men, though, vets and the best game hunters in the area. One of the men, Carl Miller, a fifty-year-old Vietnam vet, was a natural leader and willing participant and quickly shouldered a hefty portion of the responsibility for implementing plans to safeguard the town. Guards would be placed about town at night and along the highway passing through town during the day. Doc would head the effort to determine the exact nature of the hazard threatening the community and suggest steps that could be taken to improve security. Rex was left with the job of trying to contact and coordinate with federal or state authorities. Surely the crisis would be resolved in short order. Brighton Hollow was cut off from the outside world, but the populace was reminded of the immense powers available to the state and federal governments to deal with any imaginable emergency, not to mention the United Nations which would be equipped to extend the mighty hand of the major world governments anywhere upon the face of the Earth. Reverend Baker spoke on biblical prophecies of the last days and Armageddon, assuring his congregation that a world of evil cupped in the loving hands of God would emerge cleansed and wholesome in the end, freed of the taint of death. And Doc spoke. In a soft voice, he stated his own theories that Earth had been infested by a life form from outer space, one that appeared to be insidiously effective at utilizing the weaknesses of mankind to prey upon the species. Wildlife hadn’t been affected. Deer populations were high. Birds and insects were untouched by the scourge. Hopefully, Doc said, the major disease control centers of the world would quickly - 143 -

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analyze the nature of the invader, pinpoint its own weaknesses, and find the means to eradicate it. Rex cornered Doc on the front lawn when the meeting ended. “You didn’t sound convinced by your own argument.” “I didn’t want anyone to listen too closely to what I had to say,” Doc said softly. He turned away from the sparse crowds leaving the church so that he would not be overheard. “I can’t imagine to what possible use the truth can be put.” “What would you have said had you been your usual blunt self?” Rex masked the seriousness of his question with a vague smile. “I would have told them that humanity has been specifically targeted by an superior agent seeking its destruction, and it’s not likely we’ll have any defense at all against it.” Rex had to take a moment to assimilate the statement and all it implied. “They’re just bugs. I killed one. They’re not so big that they can’t be stepped on.” “The bugs are weapons,” Doc said. “Like biological warfare?” “We haven’t seen the agent responsible for the caterpillars. It knows us, Rex. Intimately. The caterpillar is being used to pit us against ourselves. Do you see the strategy at work?” Rex saw only too well. The caterpillars catered to the evil in men and gave them the power to go after anything they wanted, all in exchange for the opportunity to kill indiscriminately. “You don’t think we can fight back?” “We have already lost the fight.” Later that day, multiple gunshots echoed in the hills toward the direction of Orange City. Rex took Carl Miller and two guards to investigate. He commandeered an abandoned Ford Bronco and fetched Doc Kaufman before leaving town. With Doc seated beside him, Rex drove to the scene of - 144 -

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the gunfire less than five miles away. He swung about a blind curve along Troll Valley Road and jammed on the brakes. The Bronco slid to a stop and stalled several hundred feet from a desert tan, military five-ton. A fatigue-uniformed Army sergeant sat motionless behind the wheel. As far as Rex could see, he was still alive. The pavement about the truck was littered with camouflage fatigues and black boots. A few of the desiccated corpses were partially intact. The rest were crumbled bones and shards of dehydrated skin. Doc put his hand on his arm and squeezed tight. “Shit,” Rex said mildly. The three armed townsmen in the back seat all spoke up at once in a raucous demand for an explanation. None of the three had previously witnessed the destructive potential of the caterpillars. Only he and Doc shared that honor. Rex threw his door open and unholstered his revolver. The military truck driver stared straight ahead as he approached on foot. Rex could see the man tremble, but apparently oblivious to his presence. He circled the truck once and counted five bodies on the pavement and another three in the back of the truck. Water dripped from the rear bed. Pools of the liquid had discolored the blacktop. The metallic sweetness in the air was overpowering. He had smelled the same odor in the basement of the house of death in Cyprus Ridge, and in the barn following Biggs’ death. The three townsmen took up self-defensive positions about the Bronco. One cried out and pointed toward movement in the trees. Rex dropped to one knee and braced his right hand and sidearm for an accurate shot at the first available target. He heart began racing wildly. A familiar voice rang from the trees. “Hold your fire, Logan!” Richard Jenkins stepped from behind a tree. Several - 145 -

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other men armed with rifles did the same, holding their weapons out with one hand to show their peaceful intent. Two carried five-gallon gas cans. Another carried an armload of M16 rifles taken from the dead. Rex pieced the situation together when he saw the pick-up pulled into the trees further down the road. He watched appalled as the group with the gas cans met at the truck, uncoiled a length of silicon tubing, and began siphoning gasoline. Jenkins approached with a mild grin. “Sorry, but we were here first. Finders, keepers.” “Did you see this go down?” “We were in the neighborhood and came running when you did. You can have the truck, if you want it.” “But that’s a military vehicle,” Rex said, confused by Jenkins’ cold-blooded behavior. “And those are dead soldiers on the ground. And if the bugs come back for second helpings, you and I are as dead as those poor bastards. I’d say the bugs move too fast to make good targets, even for an M-16 and a trained trigger-finger.” Jenkins’ men finished siphoning gas and hurried back to the pick-up. The pick-up leaped forward. Jenkins climbed aboard and gave a cavalier wave as it swung around and drove away. “He’s right,” Doc said. “If these men couldn’t defend themselves, neither can we.” “He’s still a foul son-of-a-bitch.” Doc tried the doors of the five-ton, then pounded with his fist, trying to get a reaction out of the catatonic driver seated behind the wheel. One of the townsmen used his rifle butt to knock out the passenger side window of the cab. Another leaned across the driver to unlock his door and two others pulled the dazed Army sergeant from the vehicle. The name on his pocket tag read Moresey. Carl Miller drove the five-ton into the trees. Rex drove the - 146 -

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group back to town and helped Doc move the sergeant to the examination room in his home. Doc conducted a quick check of pupil dilation and reflexes. “Help me get him into the living room. He’s in shock, but I think he’s coming around quickly enough.” Rex made coffee. With the hour, Moresey was sipping the hot brew with shaking hands, but avoiding eye contact with his hosts. It took another half hour of Doc’s gentle coaxing before Moresey told his story. Moresey had the voice of a mild-mannered college student. The truck had been on its way from Culverton to reinforce a National Guard armory elsewhere. “We didn’t figure the bugs would attack a moving truck. A bunch of kids stood in the middle of the road and stopped us. I knew what they were, but I couldn’t bring myself to just run them over.” “Kids?” Doc said. Moresey looked at Doc with a haunted expression. “Three of them, two boys and a girl. Eight, maybe ten years old. I locked my doors. The little bastards and their bugs couldn’t get to me inside my truck.” “Then the state and federal governments are aware of the extent of the crisis,” Doc said calmly. “What’s left of it,” Moresey said, his look still blank and his tone of voice emotionless. “We’re not doing too well. There were too many meteorites for the bio teams to handle. Infection got into the general population faster than hell. We rounded up quite a few shells of our own. When they opened, they took out a lot of our own team, and we got wiped out from within before we knew what was happening.” Rex drew closer, morbidly fascinated. “Kids, you say?” Moresey glanced up at him. “They don’t stay sane for long, you know. The little girl thought I was her daddy. She wanted me to let her in the truck and take her back home.” Moresey wiped sudden tears from his face. “Like I could - 147 -

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make it better for her. But when the caterpillars were finished, she just tucked hers under one arm and walked back into the woods. The caterpillar was more important to her than her own father. That’s the way it is. I couldn’t have helped her. Nothing can ever save those kids.” Rex didn’t understand. “They’re slaves,” Moresey explained. “When they get bit, it’s like a drug. They need the caterpillars or they die, and from what I hear, they don’t die very pleasant. They don’t have a mind of their own after they’re taken host.” “I can’t believe they don’t have a choice,” Rex said. Moresey shook his head. “Heaven help you should ever have such a choice. I’ve seen it. You have no idea. They’re completely helpless.” Rex turned away, unwilling to be influenced too heavily by another man’s convictions. He’d find out for himself. Caitlin would help him understand.

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Twenty-six

C

onnie shook Rex Logan awake to complete darkness somewhere in the middle of the night. “Lights are out,” she whispered. “There’s no water pressure in the sink.” Rex rolled over and stared into the blackness. Connie lay against him, trembling. “Stay close to the apartment from now on,” he said. “I will.” “Tuck that twenty-two pistol of yours in your pants. Don’t be afraid to use it if you have to.” It took Connie a moment to agree. She hated guns, but the need for self-defense was clear. “What’s going to happen now?” she whispered, afraid of raising her voice in the darkness. Rex worried about nearby Pittsburgh. The city would be filled with the caterpillars. The entire infrastructure of the city would have collapsed by now. How long could a city of that size hold out against a food shortage? - 149 -

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An old memory came to mind. As a boy of ten, he had watched a dilapidated shack two doors away be torn down following the death of an old women. A back-hoe had reduced the ramshackle dwelling to ruin within seconds. Immediately afterwards, a wall of darkness had spread through the grass toward him, a veritable shock wave moving out in all directions like a spreading stain. Only when they swarmed over his shoes and up his legs did he realize that they were cockroaches by the thousands driven from their ruined abode. It would be the same with any large city. He hated to compare human beings to roaches, but a panicky populace would explode outward into the surrounding countryside in the same manner, for the same reason, and with the same desperation. Brighton Hollow wasn’t so far away that it wouldn’t be affected. Sooner or later, desperate outsiders would be visiting their isolated community. Connie kept him awake for a time, hoping to spark a bit of early morning passion to take the edge from her tension. He was awake just before dawn when Caitlin softly called his name from somewhere outside. Rex’s eyes flew open to chilled darkness. Connie clutched at his arm when he rose in the dim gray light. “Don’t you dare, Rex Logan.” Connie had no way of knowing that there was far more to fear than just the competition Caitlin posed as a woman. He had never told her about the circumstances of Leon Biggs’ death. She knew about the caterpillars. She did not know that Caitlin was part of the nightmare surrounding Brighton Hollow. Rex rose and pulled on his pants. He reached for his revolver on the nightstand, checked each chamber and cocked it. “Why do you need a gun?” Connie whispered harshly. “I don’t want you to fuck her, but I never asked you to shoot her.” “Stay out of sight,” Rex said. - 150 -

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Whatever happened, he was on his own. He went down the stairs and spotted Caitlin standing barefoot on the lawn adjacent to the meat shop and its overhead apartment. For a moment, he didn’t think it was Caitlin after all. She stood taller than he remembered in the early dawn light. Her body filled out the simple shift she wore. “Rex, help me,” she said. Rex drew closer and stopped when he saw the desperate look on her face. “I don’t know if I can, Caitlin.” “You’re not afraid of me, are you? You know I would never hurt you.” Rex dared not move too far from the apartment’s downstairs door. “Do you have one of those bugs, Caitlin?” She gestured with a nod to indicate a spot in the darkness somewhere over her shoulder. “It’s over there. I won’t let it hurt you.” “Get rid of it,” he said. “Doc and I will do anything we can to help.” She gave him a twisted smile and shook her head. “I don’t think you understand how it is.” “Doc wants to understand,” Rex said, trying to keep his wits about him. “I like Dr. Kaufman.” Caitlin gazed at him. Her lovely face smoothed over. Her complexion, Rex noticed, was radiant, and flawless. “I love you, Rex. I’m so lonesome. Can you please be my friend?” Despite the conflict of emotion inside him and the extent of a fear so overpowering that he could smell it, Caitlin was still a terrible temptation. With Leon Biggs gone, he had an opportunity and every excuse and reason to succumb to it. She had been so close, and now that she was within reach, he dared not succumb. He knew the danger the caterpillar posed to him. He - 151 -

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couldn’t help but remember what Moresey had said about the hosts. “They don’t stay sane for long, you know.” “We can walk together in the hills,” Caitlin said. “Just you and me.” “Doc has a lot of questions he wanted to ask about you and the caterpillar,” Rex said, deflecting the conversation from personal matters to Brighton Hollow’s desperate need for more information about the caterpillars. Caitlin put her hands behind her back. She rocked to and fro on her heels and smiled at him. “Okay.” “I’ll find out what Doc wants to know,” Rex said. “I’ll make a list of questions and then we can talk.” “Come with me now?” Caitlin said eagerly. “We don’t have to talk. There are other things we can do.” It was then that Rex’s courage failed him completely, thinking about what he would do with Caitlin out in the woods in the cool morning with a caterpillar crawling nearby in the shadows. “Not now, Caitlin. It’s dark. I wouldn’t be comfortable.” “I won’t let my caterpillar hurt you.” “I’ve seen what they can do,” Rex said, unable to keep a tone of revulsion from his voice. “It wasn’t my fault,” Caitlin said sternly. “I told you about the green shooting stars and you wouldn’t believe me. I was going to tell you about the shell I found, but you wouldn’t have believed me about that either. And I surely told you about Leon bothering me. Did you think I was lying about that, too?” “No. I knew you weren’t lying.” “You never tried to help me! You never tried!” His heart raced wildly in his chest. “Caitlin, Leon would have fired me and thrown me out of the county. He didn’t want me to even talk to you.” “You could have done anything that you wanted to, Rex Logan. I wouldn’t have tattled. I knew you liked me. It could - 152 -

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have been so wonderful between us. If you had been my boyfriend, the Rather brothers would never have bothered me. And Leon, too.” It suddenly occurred to him that Connie would be eavesdropping from an overhead window. Rex brushed at the tears in his eyes, wrought with tension and confused by his own conflicting emotions tearing every which way at him. Connie was listening to everything, and most of what Caitlin said was true. Despite Leon and everything he had ever considered decent and moral, he had always wanted Caitlin. Only his cowardice had kept him from taking advantage of what she had offered day in and day out, year after year. How in God’s name had he ever managed to resist her for so long? “It’s not too late,” Caitlin said fearfully. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know about my caterpillar. It’s not my fault, you know.” “I know it’s not your fault,” Rex said so softly that he wasn’t certain she had heard. “I won’t let my caterpillar hurt good people, Rex. I promise.” Rex became suddenly aware of the gun in his hand. She was suffering, and he had the means to put an end to it. Would he be doing her a favor if he raised his arm and fired? She’d be dead in an instant. Without her, her caterpillar would be helpless. “I see her, Rex Logan!” Caitlin called out suddenly. “I see that bitch in the window listening to us!” Connie had a gun of her own, and with a start of panic, Rex feared what might happen in the next moment. But Caitlin sensed the danger as well and ducked into the shadows with superhuman reflexes. Caitlin called out, her voice echoing among the - 153 -

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trees. “She’s a worm, Rex Logan, and she doesn’t love you like I do!” Rex scanned the brush bordering the lawn, searching for the caterpillar undulating its way in the gloom. If he had a clear shot, he’d take it. “Find out what Doc wants to know!” Caitlin cried. Rex could no longer see her in the dim morning light. “I’ll tell you everything so that you won’t be afraid of me! I can be better than her! I’ll prove it to you!” A few moments later, Rex sensed that he was alone in the early dawn light. The danger had passed, and still another opportunity to reach out to Caitlin and take what she had offered. If this ever happened again, he was going to lose her forever.

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Twenty-seven

C

aitlin hurried away from Rex Logan with tears in her eyes. The caterpillar trilled from the side of a nearby tree to draw attention to itself. Caitlin picked it up in passing and put it around her neck. The feel of its soft fur about her throat was the only warmth she needed in the cool of the morning. She had gotten too loud and angry. She had to get away from town. Rex had friends who would shoot her, given the chance. How could she blame them? She cut through a number of yards in the early morning quiet to the highway, wondering why she wasn’t tired after having been up so many nights. She hadn’t slept at all since the caterpillar had bitten her. It fed her. It made her feel good. Funny. All the running around she had done and her dress was too tight. She had thought she would get even skinnier than she had been. Maybe the rain had shrunk the material. If her shift had buttons, she could have opened a few, - 155 -

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not at all ashamed to show her body to the world. Not if it would attract the wrong kind of man. A bad man. Because she was getting hungry again. Caitlin walked Troll Valley Road until the sun came up. Finally, a car came by. A station wagon, rather. It zoomed on by, heading toward Orange City. She thought the driver hadn’t seen her, but it slowed a quarter mile down the highway, then slowly backed up and stopped alongside her. The man inside was not young, but he had a nice smile. “Morning, babe! Going my way?” Caitlin got into the front seat and closed the door behind her. She sat with her hands folded in her lap, staring straight ahead. The man gazed at her caterpillar in confusion. “What’s that thing you got around your neck? Interesting pattern and color. Doesn’t go well with the dress, though.” He eyed her body up and down and grinned. “Miss, do you know I could report you to the society for the prevention of seam abuse?” He laughed at his own joke and drove on, oblivious to the danger he was in. He kept his speed at fifty, most of his attention focused on his passenger. He glanced at her frequently. “Kind of odd to find a girl wandering the highways at this hour, especially considering circumstances. And circumstances aren’t too good, I can tell you. I got an empty tank of gas in this vehicle. I don’t know where I’m going to get it filled. I’m sure as hell not going to make it to Pittsburgh. From what I’ve heard from traffic going the other way, I’m not sure if that’s where I need to be.” The caterpillar sensed her reluctance to victimize the salesman, especially while he was driving the car. Her hunger was strong, but not so insistent that it couldn’t be put off for - 156 -

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another few minutes. The salesman would survive for as long as he was nice to her. “They call this Troll Valley Road, don’t they? It sure as hell is a pretty drive. I cut between the interstates here. Been doing so for the past two, three years. It’s a shame we haven’t bumped into one another sooner. I would have remembered you.” Caitlin eyed the man warily. If he made a move to touch her, she would close her eyes and let the caterpillar have him. “Take a look in back, Miss.” Caitlin looked around. There were three big nylon bags in the back. “I got a high-fashion dress consignment worth thirty thousand dollars. Every hear of Pierre Cage?” Caitlin shook her head. “Big time dress designer. Formal stuff. I deliver and do some on-the-spot alterations. Only girl your size I know of is this Brazilian chick named Maria. I got something that would fit you, I’d bet, although we’re talking three grand for the one outfit. I’d proposition you with that dress, if I thought I could get away with it.” The salesman kept his eye on the road, chuckling to himself. He shook his head. “I don’t do so well with the women, to tell you the truth. Too easy going, I guess. Not good enough looking. Costs me an arm and a leg to get laid, that’s for sure.” He drove in silence for a time, then began to frown and glance at her uneasily. “Ever get the weird notion that you’re dreaming and can’t wake up? Did that thing on your shoulders move just now?” Caitlin smiled. “It’s sleeping.” The man chuckled. “Right. The fur’s sleeping. Green shooting stars.” He smacked a CB mike on the dash. “Screwed up radio. Two to one I’m wasting my time trying to get - 157 -

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anywhere, even if I find someone that’s gonna take a credit card for gas. There’s a town just ahead, isn’t there?” “Orange City,” Caitlin said. “It’s got a gas station.” The man sighed. “Thank God for minor miracles. Do you suppose when He created the world in six days He ever figured He’d someday have himself a broken universe filled with gas stations and Buick station wagons?” Was he going to hit on her or not? It hardly mattered. Even if he did, he’d probably be too nice about it to justify letting the caterpillar have him. All she needed was the ride to Orange City and time to figure out what to do about Rex and Connie and the rest of Brighton Hollow. If there were other caterpillars around, they were all in terrible danger. Maybe she could make a deal with them to protect the town from outsiders. She wanted nothing in return except not to be feared and hated so terribly. Nothing that was happening was her fault. There was nothing she could do to stop it. The salesman slowed the car. “Roadblock ahead. County sheriff. Yeah, that’s excellent. Some old-fashioned American law enforcement for a change.” Deputy Richard Jenkins’ patrol car meant trouble. He’d recognize her, and he had gotten nasty with her in the past when Leon hadn’t been around to protect her. Caitlin decided to tell the deputy that she was just visiting a friend in town. Jenkins would probably be too busy to bother with her, but if he did, he was in big trouble. There were other men with Jenkins, all armed with rifles. The salesman stopped in their midst with a smile. “Morning, gentlemen! Mind pointing me to the nearest gas station?” “Get out of the car,” Jenkins said to the man, gesturing with the barrel of his handgun. The salesman frowned briefly, then got out of the car and held up his hands grinning. - 158 -

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“Where you headed and what do you have in the back?” Jenkins said. “Pittsburgh, and dresses, and I’d sure like to fill up while I’m here. Any chance of that?” Richard gestured with a nod. A rough looking man in greasy denims opened the tailgate and unzipped a bag. He pulled out a fistful of neatly folded dresses of satin and lace for the deputy to see. “Hey, take it easy with that stuff!” Jenkins gave the salesman one of his infamous sneers of disdain. “Got any cash on you?” The salesman turned suddenly pale. “For the gas, you mean?” Jenkins and his friends laughed harshly. “What the hell is going on here?” the salesman said cautiously, and without his smile. Richard nodded to one of his men. “Run him over to the motel.” The caterpillar sensed the approach of danger and leaped out of her window. Jenkins leaned down and peered in at her. So, what else do we have here? You out whoring, Caitlin? Picking yourself up customers on my highway? I always knew you had it in you.” Caitlin was shocked by the accusation, although it was typical of Richard Jenkins to be so crass and unpleasant. Jenkins pushed away from the door. “Double her up with the salesman. We’ll play with her later.” Caitlin got out of the car amidst catcalls and knowing chuckles. She saw other cars pushed off the road with their doors and trunks hanging open. Jenkins was stealing from people passing through town. Gas, tires, money. It seemed such a petty thing to do, or were things so bad that a little gas was worth the effort? The motel was a block away. In the cool, bright morning, - 159 -

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one guard with a gun hustled the salesman down the road. Another unarmed, dirty little man kept shoving her along from behind. She resisted the temptation to hit him. She thought she saw the caterpillar moving nearby in the underbrush, following, but not about to take prey with so many other people around. Maybe it wasn’t smart enough to reason for itself, but it seemed able to read her emotional state, even from a distance. It seemed odd that an insect knew so much about people to be so sneaky. Where had it come from? Why was it here? Caitlin was thrown into an end cabin behind the salesman. The door closed and locked behind them, and the salesman paced the room in tears. “They’re ripping me off, the bastards. They’re nothing but highway bandits. What the hell is happening to people?” Caitlin sat on the edge of the bed, astonished that a traveling salesman could be so stupid. If a man who drove around the country selling expensive dresses didn’t understand evil people like Richard Jenkins, why did everybody think her too dumb to survive beyond the hills? She had never been so dumb. The salesman lost his temper and tried to force the door, yanking on it and kicking it. A guard out front banged the door from the other side, and the salesman backed away and didn’t say another word. They weren’t fed for the rest of the day, and the sink in the bathroom only gave up a few drops of rusty water. Former occupants of the room had filled the toilet with filth. The bathroom window was thrown open wide to deal with the odor, but she peeked and saw a guard pacing out back as well. Caitlin heard a few other people being taken to other rooms during the course of the day, and she could tell that the ones who got loud got hurt. Finally, she heard Richard Jenkins talking to his men out front. She heard the conversation - 160 -

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clearly, but the salesman sitting on the edge of the bed seemed oblivious to the low hum of voices. “Round everyone up,” Richard said. “Take them just east of town and send them into the hills. Tell them if they come back this way we’ll shoot them.” “What about the girl?” one of the men said with a chuckle. “Can we split her six ways?” “Caitlin’s my bonus for six years of putting up with Leon Biggs. Touch the young lady before I’m done with her, and I’ll break your fingers one at a time. But, yeah, you can split her six ways, or as many ways as you want, afterwards.” The salesman danced about in a panic when they came for him. It took two men to drag him screaming out the door. He glanced back at Caitlin in genuine concern for her welfare, and Caitlin was glad then that the caterpillar hadn’t taken him. There was far more worthy prey in Orange City. Caitlin sat cross-legged on the bed and waited for something more to happen. Richard Jenkins came barging into the room at dusk. He tossed one of the large nylon bags from the station wagon onto the floor. “Caitlin, why are you wearing that ridiculous dress? Did it shrink in the rain, or are you just getting to be a really big girl? Get your beautiful ass up off that bed. Stand up.” Caitlin stood for the man. Jenkins shook his head in exasperation. “You’ve grown three inches since the last time I saw you.” He kicked one of the bags at his feet. “Find something more suitable to wear.” Caitlin’s curiosity coaxed her into playing along with the man. She dropped to her knees and unzipped the bag, systematically transferring its contents to the bed. She then inspected the dresses and gowns. She brushed tears from her eyes holding them one at a time before her body. They were silk, satin, and lace of all colors, some encrusted with jewels and sequins. Caitlin had - 161 -

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never seen such beautiful clothes in her life. One of the dresses was big enough to fit, probably the one the salesman had mentioned, a black gown trimmed in silver and dark crimson thread with a collar of small diamonds sewn in. “Put it on,” Richard said. Caitlin pulled her torn and stained shift over her head, not at all caring that Richard Jenkins saw her naked. She put on the salesman’s dress, then looked up into Jenkins eyes to see how he was reacting. If he liked it, then Rex Logan, too, would like it. She saw more than she expected to see, disdain, lust, but a glimmer of fear as well. Jenkins had been a tall man just last month. How had he gotten so much shorter? “Now take it off,” he said quietly. Caitlin took a step back, surprised that he could be so bold. Leon would have killed him for what he was thinking. “Fight if you want,” Jenkins said. “Scream, even. We’ll make a real party of it.” Richard Jenkins started to take his clothes off. It wasn’t a pleasant sight. He wasn’t as fat as Leon had been, but he was flabby and wrinkled all the same, and as pale as a hairy worm. Caitlin’s disgust was the trigger that signaled to the caterpillar that the person in her presence had become suitable prey. She hadn’t noticed it at her feet. She didn’t understand how it had gotten past the guards. Or were the guards still alive? The gray tongue struck at an upward angle and, ironically, it buried itself between Richard Jenkins’ legs in the worst of all possible spots. Caitlin had heard of the thing called poetic justice. This, she was certain, was what it meant. Paralysis stopped Jenkins in his tracks. Parts of him turned black before he fell over. She watched the agony of approaching death on his face. And then she turned away so that she would not have to witness the rest. - 162 -

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Caitlin didn’t understand why the caterpillar needed to feed so much. It would have grown to a gigantic size by now, if it had used all that nourishment just for itself, but caterpillars made her think of butterflies, and Caitlin wondered if it was storing up at least some nourishment to become a magnificent butterfly. It would be, she suspected, a very dangerous butterfly. When the caterpillar was done feeding, Caitlin went outside. The guard waiting in front of the door swung his rifle around to bear on her. She smacked the barrel aside with enough force to send it flying from his hands, then hit him in the face, breaking bones and sending his body reeling backward. She went around back. The guard there had his back to her and didn’t see when she cut across the grass and vanished into the trees. She let the caterpillar take care of itself for the time being. She wasn’t desperately hungry yet, and it always seemed to be nearby when she needed it. She had a mission to accomplish first. Some men deserved to die. Others, like the salesman, she wanted to live. She liked the idea of having the power to decide the life or death of men like Richard Jenkins and the salesman, but it humbled her when it occurred to her that she had no power at all to make Rex Logan love her.

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Twenty-eight

G

unshots echoed through the early dawn. Rex pushed away from Connie and rolled to his feet. He could see nothing from the front windows despite his second floor vantage looking out over Brighton Hollow. He dressed, muttering profanities to mask his fear. He had caught a whiff of a familiar odor in the dawn air and knew what was happening. He left the house on foot. By the time he reached the residential blocks on the south side of town, Carl Miller and his men were tearing zigzag fashion between the houses. Rex caught a glimpse of a child ducking into underbrush. He stopped when he saw another lying dead on the ground, a girl of nine or ten. She lay face up on a mowed lawn, staring into the morning sky. Hardly more than a trickle of blood stained the torn and dirty dress she wore, although the amount of blood beneath her warned of a massive exit wound. Rex stood

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paralyzed by the sight of her, not knowing what to feel, or how to react. Screams from nearby galvanized him to action. Two doors down, a woman clutching a baby ran from her house and collapsed in hysterics. Rex went inside with his revolver drawn and caught sight of a child leaving by the back way, a child wearing an orange and brown caterpillar on his shoulder. Its victim lay collapsed in a rocking chair with a quilt spread neatly across its lap, little more than a skeleton inside a thin sheet of skin leaking clear water to soak into the rug. Rex thought he may have known the old woman, mother to the woman who had fled the house, and grandmother to the child. Carl Miller was yelling orders from down the block. “Forget the bugs! Take out the hosts!” Rex ran out to stop him. “No, wait!” he cried, although Carl and his group had already spread out toward the wall of trees at the edge of town. Even as more gunshots roared, he saw a caterpillar racing and leaping across a nearby lawn. Leading his aim to compensate for the motion, Rex fired off two shots, the second of which sent the insect spinning into a flower garden. A shot sounded from directly behind him followed by a shriek. Rex turned in time to see a boy fall writhing. Like the girl he had seen, the clothes he wore were too small. The seams of his shirt and pants alike had split. He looked well fed and healthy. As Rex watched, he died. Carl Miller emerged from the underbrush shouldering his rifle. Rex’s anger would have gotten the best of him hadn’t he taken notice of the man’s violent trembling. Even as he watched, Miller turned away and vomited. “My God,” he croaked through his own gagging. “They killed a dozen, maybe more. heir own families even, for Christ’s sake. They brought them fucking bugs to their own families.” - 165 -

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It added to the horror of the situation a thousandfold. No wonder the bugs needed hosts. They needed treachery to find their way through locked doors and closed windows. “They’re so goddamn fast,” Miller said, dropping to his knees alongside the body of the boy. “I think we only got two or three. There must have been a dozen. They’re just kids, for Christ’s sake.” “We have to warn anyone that has family missing,” Rex said, thinking aloud. “We should have known!” Rex felt a stab of compassion for the man. There was no way a sane mind could have anticipated this. Miller glanced up at him, simmering with a rage that slowly faded. “Yeah, you’re right. Missing persons might mean trouble. I’ll get word out.” Rex turned away and headed home through the deathly quiet town. He hadn’t been part of the killing. He didn’t want to be part of the clean-up. Except for a few of the gunmen heading home as well, Brighton Hollow, to all outward appearances, appeared deserted. The downstairs apartment door was locked. Connie screamed when he pounded. She stuck her pistol out the window and then her head, wild-eyed with terror, to identify the intruder. Rex ducked out of her line of sight when he saw her brandishing her revolver. “It’s just me! Don’t panic!” She came down the stairs after a time and let him in, then rushed back up to the apartment and paced incessantly, wringing her hands and hugging herself in a bout of quiet hysteria. She had no way of knowing how bad it had been, and Rex refused to talk about it when she finally began throwing questions at him. He shook his head and turned away each time. - 166 -

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“She’s one of them, Rex! Caitlin is one of them! She could have come back and killed me! You left me alone!” “Connie, for Pete’s sake...” He reached out to take her hand. “Don’t you touch me! You still want her! Even after everything that has happened, you still want her!” He reached for her again. “Connie...” She rushed to the far side of the room and turned to him with clenched fists. “I heard what you said to her! I saw you!” Rex sifting through his options. Reason wasn’t going to work, or any degree of reassurance. Connie had been obsessed with Caitlin during their entire relationship. So he shrugged and said, “Okay, so what do you want to do about it?” He was far too weary to argue. Her jaw fell open. It took her a moment to voice her greatest fear. “Are you going to go to her?” Rex laughed. “She’d kill me, don’t you think?” Her brow furrowed. “Then why?” He shook his head. “I don’t understand the question. Why what?” “Don’t play games with me, Rex. Why do you still love her?” He shrugged helplessly. “I guess because feelings aren’t something you turn on and off like a water faucet.” Connie’s expression registered abject shock. “You admit it!” Rex was burned out. He was finished with the game. Denial would get him nowhere. “If you want me to admit it, what can I say? I admit it.” Connie fought to compose herself. “Then why haven’t you gone to her? Why are you still here? Because of Leon? Have you been that big of a coward?” He had to grin at that one. For the most part, she had hit upon the crux of the problem. “I didn’t love her enough, I - 167 -

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suppose. Or maybe I didn’t respect my own right to what I wanted out of life enough. I do think about it, believe me.” Connie was still confused. She had so little insight into herself, and no grasp of her value to him. If it hadn’t been for her constant paranoia, her insecurity and her self-centered nature, her maturity would easily have won out over Caitlin’s nubile beauty. The constant tension between them would never have been. She began to see a glimmer of the truth. “It was never just Caitlin. It was me. You hate me.” “We’ve been through this before, Connie. You’re hard to live with.” She folded her arms against her breasts, backed against the wall and radiated a quiet panic. Even knowing the source of the problem, she could do nothing to resolve it, no more than he could change his feelings for Caitlin. “We’ve had serious trouble.” He started to turn away. “I need to speak with Doc.” “Don’t be gone long.” “I don’t have anywhere else to go.” He waited until she gave a little nod of acknowledgment before he turned away again. Rex jogged to Doc’s house, uneasy in the dying light. Doc was napping in his recliner with a quilt pulled up about his shoulders. His eyes came open as Rex eased himself into an overstuffed couch. “You shouldn’t leave your door unlocked, Doc.” “I heard what happened. They’re probably the same group that attacked the soldiers. I’ve scheduled an autopsy for one of the bodies later this evening. Maybe it’ll give us some answers.” Rex had yet to mention his visit with Caitlin. He filled Doc in with the details, and Doc sat up a bit straighter. “Arrange for a meeting between us, just you and - 168 -

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me. The others will kill her if they find out. I need answers to a thousand questions. I need to know what makes the hosts tick, not just their physiology, but their symbiosis with the caterpillars, their psychological adaptation, as well. It may be a matter of life and death to us.” “Did Moresey have a point, do you think?” It was a question he hadn’t wanted to ask about Caitlin. “About the hosts not being sane?” “Did she seem in good physical health?” “Yeah. I swear, Doc, she’s grown since the last time I saw her.” “The caterpillars are responsible for that, I suspect, but I can’t imagine how she can hold up under the stress of it all. I just can’t imagine. It has to be a symbiotic relationship. A person couldn’t possibly be forced to withstand such horror. There has to be a reward, a terrible, terrible reward.” Rex stared off into the dark corners of the room. “She keeps coming to me for help. She’s been coming to me ever since she was a kid. I fail her every time.” “Set your personal problems aside for the duration,” Doc said. “I’ve lost three more elderly patients and one baby during the past twenty-four hours, and those are just the ones I know about. If the black-out continues over the course of the winter, we’ll loose all of them. We’ll have no food reserves, or medical supplies. Even without the parasites to contend with, the population of Brighton Hollow will be hard-pressed to survive until spring.” Rex rose to his feet. “Jesus H. Christ, Doc, that’s looking ahead a bit too far, don’t you think?” “We won’t go down without a fight, my young friend. The military can fall back on laser and fiber optic technology for communications, if nothing else. And we know the caterpillars aren’t bullet proof.” “I don’t know if I buy into this invasion bullshit,” Rex - 169 -

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insisted. “It makes more sense to hold tight on the paranoia until we hear more about this.” Doc gave him a weary, compassionate smile. “I’ve been a country doctor all my life, more accustomed to the natural cycle of life and death than most. I don’t have any strong loyalties toward the life-at-any-cost mentality. I’ve been in a good position to see something like this coming, although I certainly didn’t think it possible.” “I don’t follow.” “Imbalance,” Doc said. “We hold death at bay with our medical technology, but do nothing to control our population. We know how essential natural checks and balances apply to populations of wildlife. We pretend they don’t apply to us. We ourselves have become a cancer and a scourge upon the Earth.” “What does that have to do with the caterpillars?” Rex said mildly, in genuine confusion. “We take for granted that God appointed us caretakers of our own world, young man. We have failed, if that is the case. To my way of thinking, another party who values this world more highly than ourselves considers us of a part of the problem rather than the solution.” Rex kept his mouth shut, hoping Doc would moderate his point of view a bit for the sake of a peaceful night’s rest. Doc stared off into space, lost in thought. “I couldn’t figure out why it had to be this way. Why not a bacteria, or a virus? Except that a bacteria or virus would invariably mutate and escape into the general ecosystem. If the caterpillars are as finely tuned to our biochemistry as I think they are, they’ll die when we die and have no lingering effect upon the rest of the ecology.” Rex felt awkward, not knowing whether Doc’s assessment was the natural pessimism of an old man, or the - 170 -

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evaluation of an exceptionally smart one. He was too badly outclassed to judge for himself. “I won’t live long enough to know for sure.” Doc smiled apologetically. “I won’t last the winter, my young friend. I’ve been susceptible to pneumonia for all my seventy-two years. It almost killed me at age two. I’ve been hospitalized a hundred times since then. If I get sick again, the physician will be unable to heal himself.” Which explained why Doc had the courage to look so far ahead. The old man saw the upcoming winter as an insurmountable barrier. Rex tried to imagine life without Doc Kaufman, and failed. “You can survive one winter without me,” Doc said, interpreting his pained expression correctly. “If you can’t shake this thing, there won’t be anyone left to survive a second.”

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Twenty-nine

“R

ound everyone up,” Richard had told his men. ”Send them into the hills. Tell them if they come back this way we’ll shoot them.” Caitlin followed the sound of voices in the tree-covered hills behind Cyprus Ridge, but voices were coming from several different directions now. Some had stopped to rest for the night, although the salesman wasn’t among those. If she didn’t find him soon, he’d not survive the other caterpillars in the hills. She’d never get to show him the dress she wore and how well it fit. There were other men roaming the hills as well, hunters with guns and bows and arrows, some tracking down people like herself carrying caterpillars and others just out hunting game. She could hear them moving in the underbrush, and she avoided being seen by them as they passed in the growing darkness. She avoided, too, the soft trills of caterpillars, and their - 172 -

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odor. She tried hard not to think about their hosts, people like herself, and the fact that they were out hunting game of their own. The recent rain had announced a seasonal change in the weather. It had cooled off and wouldn’t again warm up to the temperatures of the past summer. As fall approached, dusk arrived earlier. The maples were turning their ruby crimson, and other trees already showing patches of yellow and brown. Much of the cover and protection of the underbrush would be gone soon. Caterpillars and their hosts would be easier targets for the hunters. She had already heard several shots during the course of the afternoon, although the world had fallen so quiet that shots echoed among the hills for many miles. Still, more than just game animals were being killed, and those who were dying, animal and human alike, did so in complete silence. She narrowed her search to the next closest group of voices during the course of the night. When she could make out individual words, she could not hear her salesman among them. In the early morning hours of the new day with the sky a beige color to the east, hunters directly ahead were whispering about a deer moving around their position. When she heard them, she fell silence, but so did they. Caitlin stood without moving. They would kill her if they had seen her. She turned to go around like the escaping deer, but she knew it was too late when her caterpillar leaped from her shoulders and disappeared into the grass at her feet. Only when she studied the trees in front of her more carefully did she see the archer clutching a bow with a quiver of arrows peeking over his shoulder. He signaled to someone off to his right, and she spied a second man with a rifle or shotgun crouched in a tree off to her left. There was a third as well somewhere off to her right and maybe behind her by now. They converged on her, dark shapes in the dim light of - 173 -

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the new day. The one with the bow and arrows smirked. “What do you say, boys? Have we cornered ourselves a deer do you think?” The youngest of the three was breathing hard from the excitement and looked scared. The calm, older one spoke. “Leave her alone, Tom. She doesn’t have a bug.” “No matter,” the archer said. “She’s free for the picking. It would be a shame to see her go to waste.” “Kid, get back to town,” the calm voice said. “You don’t want any part of this.” The youngest of the three whined protest. The archer guffawed laughter. “You gonna turn your back on this fine young filly, son? Stick around and as soon as we’re done with her, we’ll hang her by her heels and skin her alive.” The young one thought it prudent to flee after all. He ran off and quickly vanished from sight. The quiet one moved into view, and Caitlin judged the two to be seasoned hunters. Both were lean outdoorsmen. “Let her go,” the rifleman said. “You’ve got willing women in town. You don’t have to be snapping at every temptation.” “You gonna stop me, George?” George shifted his rifle to bear on the man. The archer barked laughter, unconvinced by the threat. “Okay, so make your move, if that’s the way you want it.” “I’m not letting you get by with this. You’ve gone too far.” “I won’t kill her, George. I was just freaking out the kid.” “I’m hardly convinced.” “If you’re going to point a gun at me, you had better be willing to pull the trigger. You’ll have to answer for it back in town, you know, or haven’t you noticed which of the two of us has the most backing? I keep telling you you’re too wishywashy for your own good.” George fell unexpectedly silent and then sighed in defeat. It hardly mattered to Caitlin. Whether she lived or died - 174 -

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was up to the caterpillar, not a hunter with a bow and arrow, or even one with a rifle. The archer put away his arrow, slung the bow over his shoulder, and whipped out a hunting knife from a sheath on his belt. He used it to gesture to a nearby stand of trees. “Over that way, little miss pretty. If you think you can outrun a knife in the back, you’re welcomed to try.” Caitlin sidestepped toward the trees. Once within the shadows, he drew close and touched her between her breasts with the tip of the knife. “I’m kind of curious why an elegant lady such as yourself wants to go for a walk in these dangerous hills dressed in an evening gown. Are you sure you don’t have a bug?” Caitlin feigned innocence and shook her head. “Jenkins told me he’d shoot me if I went back to town.” “Richard Jenkins? Yeah, the bastard. You’d all be best off staying home, you know. Nobody’s got food for refugees. There’s nowhere to go for sanctuary, that’s for damned sure.” “You going to hurt me?” He studied her bare feet with a frown. He looked up at her and held her gaze with a hard stare. “What difference does it make what I do to you? You’re fucked anyway you look at it. If you can’t take care of yourself, nobody else can afford to. You’re a damned sight prettier than most of the women we got in town, but I’m sure as hell not going to risk my old lady’s wrath dragging you in as the catch for the day, if you catch my drift. Neither will anyone else.” Caitlin’s feelings were hurt that he’d even think about what she could see in his eyes. “You’re a horrible man,” he said softly. He shrugged his nonchalance at the insult. “Hey, I’m a good shot. They need me in town worse than they need another mouth to feed, so what do you say we start by taking that dress - 175 -

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off and seeing what sort of game we’ve bagged this gloomy morning?” He was leaning forward in a threatening manner, but not in a good position to lunge at her with the knife. He clearly didn’t think she was very dangerous. The rifleman, she noticed, had wandered off, leaving her alone to her fate. Caitlin lashed out with her right hand to catch his wrist, shocked by the sudden intensity her anger. It flared from her like a flash of light. In the next moment, the risk she had taken was a moot point. She had caught him off guard, and she was strong enough to force him to his knees. “You bitch!” He wrestled fiercely with her grip, his eyes growing wide with fear. “You’ve got one of those bugs! I knew it! I should have killed you when I had the chance!” “It’s not my fault,” she said mildly. “Besides, I didn’t do anything to bother you.” “You done enough, you crazy whore! Don’t play innocent with me, you worm-eating slut! You know the score, you vile mother...” She twisted his wrist harder to shut him up. He gasped in pain. “I never hurt anyone that didn’t try to hurt me first.” He relaxed, conceding defeat. “Well, now, I guess that makes you a good girl after all, or have you bothered to keep a body count? How about it, little girl? You got some idea of how many people you’ve killed since Saturday afternoon?” He was terrified, but he looked her square in the eye, and it bothered Caitlin that he could be so brave in the face of death. He was a bad man, but he was strong, and Caitlin sensed that he was not somebody who deserved to die a senseless death. He was a man others would depend upon for survival. So she let him go and stepped back. He fell backwards and sat on the ground. “You’re quick, - 176 -

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kid. Quicker than the others I’ve run across. So, where’s your bug?” “I won’t hurt you,” she said, feeling magnanimous and very much superior to the hunter. “You just go away, and don’t bother me again.” She searched the underbrush in the gathering dusk. “And you’d better hurry, or else...” The caterpillar leaped, a blur across her field of vision. He glanced at it in astonishment, and Caitlin cried out in protest. In a heartbeat, it was too late to do anything. She closed her eyes rather than watch him die, then hurried around his body, filled with guilt and trembling with fear that the caterpillar had defied her will. Or was it just too hungry to let the opportunity slip by? Caitlin continued on her way uneasily, wondering how far her salesman could have wandered during the course of the night. She heard a distant wailing, the cry of a human infant, and she turned toward the sound rising and falling on a northwesterly breeze, intending to help if she could. She encountered her salesman entirely by accident. He cut across her path in the dawn gloom without even seeing her. In another few moments, he would have fallen prey to someone else lurking in the bushes nearby. Caitlin could smell the sweet, metallic odor that was not her own. “Mister. It’s me, Caitlin. I’m over here.” He couldn’t see her until she was almost upon him. He stood wringing his hands, wrought with tension. “Oh,” he said in confusion, trembling violently. “It’s you.” She took his hand and led him staggering and tripping across the uneven ground toward Orange City. Behind her, the baby’s shrill cry slowly faded to silence. It would have to wait for another time. When she reached the motel, the guards were gone. Caitlin returned to the motel room and stuffed the dresses back into the nylon bags. The salesman stood at the - 177 -

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door, staring in horror at the dehydrated skeleton of Deputy Richard Jenkins. “What in the name of God...” Caitlin brushed by without comment and led the way back to the station wagon. The highway, too, was deserted of Jenkins’ men. Without him, they had all gone their own way. Caitlin threw the nylon bag in back of the station wagon with the other two. “I’m going to keep the dress I’m wearing,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t mind. “I don’t have anything else to wear.” The salesman gave her a crooked, sick-looking smile. “That’s fine. I told you I thought it would fit. You look very nice.” Caitlin checked to see if the keys were still in the ignition. With a sinking feeling, she saw that they were gone. “I’ll go see if Richard has them in his pockets,” she offered. “Maybe we can find you some more gas...” The salesman shook his head frantically. He climbed behind the steering wheel, fished beneath the dash, and came up with a spare. He jammed the key in the ignition and twisted. The engine cranked over and roared to life. “Gas is fine!” he cried on the ragged edge of panic, his hands shaking hard no matter how hard he gripped the steering wheel. “Honest, everything’s okay!” Caitlin stepped back and watched the station wagon back from the ditch and fishtail down the highway. Once it was gone, the early morning closed upon her with deafening silence. She stood alone in the middle of nowhere wishing the salesman would have kept her company a little longer. She had frightened him, and she held out her arms from her sides and looked down at herself in her black evening gown. To her own eyes, she was beautiful. And it was so. She had seen it in Richard Jenkins’ eyes, and in the eyes of the archer. They had desired her. She brushed tears from her dirt-smeared face, telling herself that it was only the caterpillar they feared. - 178 -

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It was sad. The salesman hadn’t enough gas to reach Pittsburgh. He’d just stall somewhere up the road and get taken by someone else’s caterpillar, or fall prey to the next bunch of pirates. She hadn’t made a difference. The caterpillar was using to her to kill, and she was trying to justify her role in the killing. No amount of rationalization was going to help. Nothing she could do to help was going to amount to anything. She felt cold inside knowing nothing would stop what was happening. Cooperating with Rex Logan and Doc Kaufman was the only way she could be of use to ordinary people. Beyond that, the battle was not hers to fight. She was on the wrong side. She was the enemy, one of the first casualties of the war. The wind shifted. She heard the haunting cry of the baby again. She turned away absently, driven by the mournful sound to investigate. Her caterpillar met her along a deserted sidewalk. Without breaking stride, she scooped it off the ground and hoisted it to her shoulder. It had satisfied its hunger for the time being. Before the new day ended, it would have to appease hers as well.

- 179 -

Thirty

T

he most rugged and determined of Brighton Hollow’s populace attended the town meeting at the sheriff’s substation that afternoon. Carl Miller brought the meeting to order and was the first to speak. “First things first. Ammunition is not a resource we can expect to replace. We threw away half our reserves yesterday and managed to take the lives of three of our own children. They were victims of those caterpillars, but we only got two of the caterpillars. Another farce like that and we’ll be defenseless. “From now on, a bullet is well spent if it brings down game, but only if we’re starving. It’s well spent if it takes out a caterpillar, or its host, but only if the threat is immediate. Otherwise, we’re going to rely on bows, crossbows, and traps, or even knives and our bare hands, if they’ll get the job done. “And what goes for bullets goes for every piece of hardware you might use in the course of a day. If you don’t plan on running to Culverton to try to replace an item, don’t - 180 -

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use that item, especially fuel. Burn wood for cooking and heating. To hell with power equipment, especially generators. Save it for emergencies. Maybe you’ll appreciate that power saw and extra gallon of gasoline this winter when you got a few cords of wood to cut and the woods are full of hungry caterpillars. “Think ahead. I don’t know how long this emergency is going to last, but it’s safer to assume it’s permanent than to bury our heads in the sand and figure it’ll be over day after tomorrow.” Gaiter Murphy rose to his feet. “I got a some archery inventory at the house. Carl asked me to invite anyone over who needs to know how to handle a bow or to sharpen their archery skills a bit. Same thing applies to arrows that Carl was talking about. We got nice razor-tipped metal ones for game and self-protection, but we can’t have amateurs losing or damaging them unnecessarily. The better you can handle the equipment now, the more we’ll have on hand when things get rough.” Carl took over again. “We’ve all heard about how bad things could get if people head out this way from the cities, so we’re laying defense plans early. We’ll make arrangements so that we can pull into the center of town and built a perimeter of some kind. Someone suggested using junk cars. Hell, without gas, we could ring the town with our vehicles. They make good cover, even from rifles. Then maybe we’ll build some sniper towers, and cut down a few trees around our perimeter. “But if we have to pull in to the center of town to defend ourselves, it’s going to have to be a community affair. Anyone who wants in later has to be a member of the team now, so that we can plan ahead. Anyone who figures they can go it alone can’t come bawling when things get rough. Does anyone else have anything they’d like to add?” Rex rose to his feet. “One favor I’d like to ask of - 181 -

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everybody from Doc and myself. I ask that Caitlin Biggs not be fired on if she’s seen around town.” “Ain’t she the first who ought to take a bullet, Rex old buddy?” Carl grinned sarcastically. “It was her caterpillar that did in Biggs, her own father.” “She’s got a hankering for the deputy,” someone called from the back of the room. “I think Rex has gone soft on us.” “Damn it, that’s the whole point!” ex called out. “Because of me, she thinks she can help us! She thinks she still has some loyalty left in her! Maybe it isn’t so, but as long as she’s trying, we need to know what she’s willing to share with us about the relationship between those bugs and the people they’ve enslaved. If we’re going to defend ourselves, we need to know if there’s a way to pry them apart, because if we can’t, we’re screwed. We don’t have enough bullets or arrows or knives or even fists to fight them all. We can’t see in the dark, but they apparently can. You saw those meteors come down. They came down by the thousands. The hills belong to the caterpillars.” Carl Miller sobered at the weight of Rex’s argument. He stood to quiet the roar of anger emanating from the rest of the crowd. “Rex has a point. Anyone with an ounce of common sense knows that you gotta know the enemy to fight him. Leave Caitlin be. Let the deputy and Doc deal with her as best they can. Anyone who thinks otherwise crosses swords with me, because I’m hankering to know what Caitlin has to say about what happened to her, now that I think about it. If it comes down to a choice between her life or ours, she’ll pay with hers, but not until it comes down to that.” Knowing he had riled a few tempers, Rex left the office to let Carl deal with the bickering over details of the plans to be implemented. He wandered toward his apartment in the cool afternoon with his hands stuffed in his pocket. A gunshot sounded, echoing off the hills from all - 182 -

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directions, but originating directly ahead. He broke into a dead run as two more shots sounded, thinking at first that someone was under attack. Fear turned to anger when the evenly spaced gunshots indicated that some mindless fool was out target practicing with ammunition that could not be replaced. The mindless fool turned out to be Connie shooting into the trees behind the meat market. Rex came up behind her and wrenched the revolver from her hand hard enough to sprain her wrist. Connie dropped to her knees screaming. Without bothering to demand or deliver an explanation, Rex went upstairs and paced the apartment to burn off an overload of nervous energy. Connie followed wailing her feeble explanations and apologies. She threw herself across the bed sobbing. Rex tossed the revolver alongside her head. “You had six shots and five in that box in the drawer. Now you’ve got two left if Caitlin or one of her friends pays you a visit sometime when I’m not around.” “I thought you had more!” she cried in frustration. A tap turned Rex to the door. “She okay?” Mat Bean said gently. Mat, a retired trucker of about sixty, had a gleam in his eye. The excitement had yet to strike a chord of fear in his aging heart. “She’s okay.” “I was trying to catch up to you. Carl asked that you pay Vivian a visit. A few of the church ladies got together and decided they can fend for themselves at the Biggs’ house. They’ll be caterpillar food if they try. Go take a look at what they figure on using for protection.” Mat nodded to indicate the weeping woman on the bed. “And you’d better take that gun away from the little lady before she hurts someone with it.” Rex left Connie sobbing on the bed, but let her keep the gun and her last two bullets. He backtracked through town - 183 -

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and walked the blacktop with his thirty-eight dangling from his right hand. A single middle-aged woman blocked his way at the front door of the Biggs’ house. “Vivian is not taking visitors,” she said in a childishly insolent tone of voice. “We have no use for men here.” Rex took note of a half dozen women at the windows. He gestured to the cast iron Christian cross the woman held in her right hand. “What’s that for?” She held the cross up before her. “This is a shield against the evil of Satan’s spawn.” “Carl asked me to speak with you. You’re not safe here, ma’am.” “We have been warned not to attempt to explain or defend ourselves against unbelievers, and we certainly know those who have not attended our churches and do not understand the power of the Lord or the trials and tribulations of the last days spoken of in Revelations.” Rex sighed. He had never been good at dealing with people one on one, especially these kinds of people. The woman took it as an expression of disdain. “Young man, all those in this house have lost their men folk in recent days, be they husbands, or brothers, or sons. We will not be subjected to the threats, intimidation or indignation this community imposes upon us in our hour of need. We’ll be safe here. The good Lord will provide as He always does.” “And if one of your men or your missing children come tapping at your window in the middle of the night? Do you know about the caterpillars?” She closed her eyes and shuddered. “We will pray for strength.” Reason wasn’t going to work. He turned away with a despondent shake of his head and headed back into town at a slower pace, aware of the dry rustle of dead leaves in the trees - 184 -

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and the nip in the air as dusk approached. The nights were going to be long and harrowing with nothing but memories and unfulfilled wishes and dreams to occupy his thoughts. If Caitlin would be a bit more discrete the next time, he’d go to her and invest in that one eighteen-year-old child whatever was left of his ability to care for the world. His only hope of defending Vivian and her friends was to separate Caitlin from her caterpillar, although it wasn’t for Vivian’s sake that he’d try.

- 185 -

Thirty-one

M

emory of the crying baby led Caitlin back out into the countryside. She lost track of time during the long walk and didn’t reach the shack until well after dawn. Plastic-covered windows were too dusty to see through. Bald tires and rusting car parts littered the front lawn. A kerosene lantern burned in the window, and a dead dog lay on a bare spot beneath a tree, still chained to its dog house. Smoke curled from the shiny new pipe of a wood-burning stove. Caitlin stood at the gate of a fence surrounding the property and listened to the baby cry and cry. he didn’t want to frighten anyone inside, or risk being shot at, but the heartbreaking wail of the infant tore at her. The first rays of sunlight penetrating the dense stand of trees startled her. She looked around and wondered how the hours had managed to pass so quickly. She had wandered most of the night, aimlessly at times. After the caterpillar fed her, it was difficult sometimes to think clearly. It was a - 186 -

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peaceful feeling, just walking through the world with nowhere special in mind, but it was certainly a fact that it didn’t get her to where she wanted to go with any efficiency, because she had no where to go. She put the caterpillar on the mailbox and went to the door. She pounded furiously. When no one answered, fearing the baby had been left alone, she turned the door knob and pushed the door open. The lock held fast, but the hinges tore away from the door frame. Inside, a boy sat against the back wall, cradling the baby that was making all the fuss. The infant was red-faced, its tiny fists balled and quivering as it sucked air and let out its raucous scream. The boy holding the baby wasn’t in much better condition. Dirty and disheveled, his big brown eyes looked like those of a frightened cow. He wore coveralls with holes in the knees and brown boots with holes in the toes. He was terrified of the intruder who had barged into his home and helpless to defend himself. The house was a mess with dishes piled in the sink and roaches crawling among dirty clothes heaped everywhere. The wood burner had turned the air into a nosestinging haze. The baby was wrapped in a pink blanket. “Is that your baby sister?” Caitlin asked of the boy. He swallowed hard. His Adam’s apple danced up and down his throat. “No, ma’am. She’s my daughter.” “You’re her daddy?” He nodded with a faint smile of pride. “I guess you’re no older than my own daddy was when I was born,” Caitlin decided. “If he’s still alive, he lives near Culverton somewhere. I haven’t seen him since I was a baby myself. I wouldn’t know what he looks like.” “Yes, ma’am.” “My Aunt Vivian told me that my mother was driven away from her home, but I don’t understand why my father - 187 -

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couldn’t have followed her to Brighton Hollow, or why my mother didn’t go back and stand up for herself. I think a lot happened that my Aunt Vivian won’t talk about.” “Yes, ma’am.” Caitlin eyed five or six empty baby formula cans on the kitchen table next to a plastic bottle filled with clear water. “You out of formula?” The boy stood. He held out the squalling baby in a gesture of helplessness. “My wife went to Penrose day before yesterday for some baby formula. Never came back. I can’t stop her from crying.” Caitlin gestured with a nod to the bottle on the table. “Maybe she’s thirsty.” The boy shook his head nervously. “She won’t hardly take water. She’s hungry.” Caitlin knew a trick or two from babysitting. She took the bottle of water to the sink and added a bit of sugar from a bag in the cupboards. She put the plastic nipple on, and handed the bottle to the boy. The baby paused long enough to taste the offering, then began to suck greedily. The boy sighed a shuddering sigh and sat back down. He cradled the baby, staring hollow-eyed at the floor. “Do you think something happened to your wife, mister?” He shook his head in misery. “I don’t know.” “You should have gone yourself.” He glanced at her, his face filled with guilt. “I can’t drive. I had my license suspended.” “What was she driving?” “A pickup.” “What color?” “Gray with lots of rust.” He looked up at her hopefully. “She took my shotgun with her. I was thinking of walking to Orange City with Betsy here for help.” - 188 -

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“Too dangerous,” Caitlin said. “Richard Jenkins is dead, and the caterpillars are everywhere.” They boy’s eyes widened. “No, shit? Jenkins is dead?” “If you can catch a ride with someone, Brighton Hollow is safer. Leon Biggs is dead, too, but Rex Logan is doing okay.” The boy nodded eagerly. “Yeah, Rex is a sharp dude. I know Rex. Biggs is dead, too?” Caitlin shot to her feet, far too restless to sit around talking. “I’ll go see if I can find your wife. Penrose is in that direction, isn’t it?” She pointed and he nodded eagerly. “Yes, ma’am, just down the road two miles or so.” The boy rose to his feet. “I sure appreciate the help.” Caitlin looked at the baby again for a minute and thought briefly of Rex Logan and what they could have shared together. If the boy said anything more to her, she didn’t hear. She closed the door behind her, lifted the caterpillar from the mailbox as she passed, and started off down the road. A full moon loomed along the western horizon, soon to be washed away by the light of the sun. It took less than an hour to find the boy’s wife and the baby’s mother. The gray rusting pickup had nosed into a ditch alongside two other abandoned cars in front of a farmhouse situated close to the road. The house was dark except for the glow of a kerosene lamp in a front room window. The caterpillar squirmed on her shoulder, the first time she had ever sensed agitation or unrest from the creature. She had no idea what it meant. Maybe there were other caterpillars about. She wondered how it would feel to talk to another like herself. What would they say to one another? Would the caterpillars be friendly to each other, or would they fight? She saw clothing on the front lawn. The skeletons that had been in them had been washed away by the recent rain. Caitlin started up the sidewalk to the front door, her - 189 -

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senses heightened beyond anything she had experienced in the past. She had never before heard the wings of an owl flapping. They were too quiet for ordinary ears. Tiny animals rustled in the underbrush, mice and more distant coons and possums. And from inside the house, she heard the latch of a door click shut. She went around back, alert for other caterpillars, hunters with guns, dogs, anything that could prove a danger to either her or her caterpillar. She stood alongside an opened window for ten minutes, long enough to assure herself that there was only one person moving inside. The back door stood open. Two skeletons lay sprawled in the kitchen, a small naked one lying on a table and another wearing a dress on the floor with the imprint of a shoe on its skull. She passed through the dark of a connecting hallway and stopped in the door to the living room. An old man with a caterpillar on his shoulder stood at the front window. He turned, his eyes widening with alarm when he saw her. Caitlin held out her hand to quell his alarm. “Wait. I just want to talk...” His caterpillar leaped, arcing through the air toward her face. Her own caterpillar flew to the curtain of a nearby window, then dropped to the floor and lashed out at the old man. Caitlin swatted aside the barbed end of the swiftly approaching gray tongue, then batted the insect itself to the floor. She took a single step forward and kicked the caterpillar with her bare foot. It struck a side wall hard and slid dead to the floor, leaving behind a smear of oily goo. The old man had not reacted nearly so fast. He lay dying on the floor, his eyes reflecting unimaginable horror as her own caterpillar began to feed. “I just wanted to talk,” Caitlin said softly, and then she turned away to search the house for survivors. She found skeletons without clothes in the basement, - 190 -

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and two upstairs. The caterpillar had been responsible for their deaths, but there had been other, equally unpleasant things happening in the house before they died. The old farmer had been kidnapping people from the road in front of his house and doing things to them. She didn’t want to know exactly what. She tried not to think about it. Caitlin found an empty bedroom with a neatly made bed. She had no need to sleep, but she lay upon the bed in her black satin dress to wait for her caterpillar to finish its business and seek her out. And then she herself would need to be fed. She hoped the baby and its father would survive, although she thought she’d rather not go back and tell the boy that his wife and the baby’s mother was, in all probability, among the dead. Guilt gnawed at the edges of her psyche. The old man had been evil. She felt no regret that he had died. But she’d run out of bad men sooner or later, and still her caterpillar would have to feed. She understood that now, more so than in the beginning when she had been too confused to see anything at all too clearly. In the end, she was going to destroy everything she had ever valued in life. The last thing to be lost to her would be her own life. First, though, would come the death of all that it had meant to be human. It would be like losing one’s soul, just like they warned about in church, except that it would not be her fault. But it would happen, and nothing after that would matter at all.

- 191 -

Thirty-two

C

onnie Danielson stood before Rex’s bathroom mirror and dabbed gloss on the sensuous lips of a pretty face. The tremble of her fingers warned against selfdeception. She was nervous for good reason, thinking that her good looks wouldn’t hold out forever. How important, she wondered, had they ever been? She stepped back from the mirror and studied her reflection, telling herself as she had told herself a thousand times that she wasn’t the long-legged, high-breasted, eighteenyear-old beauty of a Caitlin Biggs, but she had a brain to go with the equipment she did have, and a more mature imagination to put it to its best use. That, too, no longer washed. She had never met Rex Logan’s modest expectations for a mate. They were like drunks trying to make love, reaching for one another, always missing their targets and needing an embarrassing moment to recover and try again. - 192 -

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Where had she gotten the notion that she could control him? When had she first harbored the illusion that she was somehow better than the lowly deputy without any ambition in life? That had taken place in the civilized world where she could sell a car at the Orange City dealership with more grace, suavity and expertise than any of the men pulling in twice her salary, and that had all fallen apart the night the green meteors fell and turned the world into a living hell. Things were different now. Her inaccessible bank account was of no value to her. Her broken home was less secure than a hole dug into a hillside, or an old mine shaft where she had heard the entire population of nearby Redrock Junction had taken refuge. And her birth control pills had run out. It seemed to her that the caveman mentality ruled once again. Women had been relegated to the status of playthings that would survive and breed in the background as best they could. Without Rex at her side, even if she survived the caterpillars, she’d be raped, pregnant, and starving to death by the end of the year. Connie slipped on a pair of lacy underwear and a robe and went in search of her man to attempt some damage control. Rex was out back, cutting boards to cover the downstairs windows below the apartment. He hadn’t wanted to play in recent days, but with Brighton Hollow so quiet on this pleasant and warm Friday afternoon, maybe he’d go for the novelty of some fun and games in the great outdoors. Even if he wanted to close his eyes and pretend she was Caitlin, at least it would keep him home and safe for the day. She raced cheerfully down the stairs, swung around the corner of the building and stopped dead in her tracks, her way blocked by a veritable Amazon wearing a black, jewel-encrusted evening gown. Connie screamed. She screamed again when she - 193 -

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recognized the apparition, and a third time when Caitlin wrinkled her nose and growled at her in disgust. Rex came charging from around the back of the building. He skidded to a stop, wiped his hands on his pants leg nervously, and took a step back. Connie dropped to her knees and wet herself, certain in that moment that she was about to die. “You wanted me to talk with Doc Kaufman,” Caitlin said in a voice that had dropped in tone a note or two. Rex looked about for the caterpillar. “Now?” “Not after all the noise your stupid girlfriend just made. Meet me out by the bus in the woods.” Rex nodded eager agreement. “Just you and Doc. Nobody else.” Rex gave her another quick nod. Caitlin’s eyes fell upon her. Connie felt the girl’s cold and empty disdain. How in God’s name had she gotten so big? She had turned into a monster, but never in a million years would Connie have imagined that anything so terrifying could be so beautiful at the same time. She bowed her head so that Caitlin would not mistake an upward glance as defiance. Neither did she want Rex to see the fear in her eyes. “She’s gone,” Rex said. Connie glanced about fearfully. She braced a hand against the side of the building and managed to put her legs beneath her. “Wait upstairs,” he told her. And now she avoided eye contact with even him. “Don’t go to her,” she said, her voice a low monotone of terror. “She didn’t come here to hurt you,” Rex said with exasperation. “Doc has questions to ask. We need to hear the answers. I’m just riding shotgun.” - 194 -

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“Don’t leave me here alone. You did the last time she was here. Don’t leave me here alone ever again.” “I can’t stand guard over you twenty-four hours a day.” “She’s going to kill me!” “If you think so, then stay at the community center with the other women.” And leave him to her? That was what Caitlin wanted. That was why she visited so often, to catch Rex alone at the apartment, or to try to intimidate her and scare her away. She had nothing more to say. It would never happen again. The next time she came face to face with Caitlin, she would have a gun in her hands, and two bullets to ruin that pretty face. Rex walked on by. He went upstairs for a rifle and left the front gate banging on his way into town.

- 195 -

Thirty-three

C

aitlin peeled her caterpillar’s grip from a tree trunk just outside Brighton Hollow, alert to the surrounding woods in the dusk of early afternoon. The caterpillar trilled nervously when it sensed humans within a few hundred feet. A bullet fired from half a mile away could kill her as dead as one fired pointblank, and maybe even an arrow from a shorter distance, if it came from behind. The hours of darkness were safer by far to be out and about for her kind. She went directly through the woods and took up position near the vine-covered bus lying in a ravine off Troll Valley Road. She sat with her knees drawn to her chin on a spot of green grass, waiting for Rex and Doc, or for the hunters they might send to kill her. Doc made his bold appearance before the sun had dropped behind the hills. Rex followed by a short distance, carrying a rifle and as alert as Caitlin for an ambush. Caitlin stood. “Put the rifle on the ground, Rex Logan,”

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she called out. “Remember that I can hear better than you if anyone else comes near.” Rex put the gun down without too much concern. Caitlin walked down to the bus as he and Doc approached. Doc took a sheet of paper from an inside pocket of his jacket. “I have a message from the National Guard. They dropped leaflets by air yesterday. Would you like to read it?” “Just tell me what it says,” Caitlin said quietly. “It’s a decree ordering all surviving local officials to identify enslaved hosts of the alien insects and eliminate them by any means possible. They’ve determined the insect to be not of this world and engineered to exterminate humanity.” “Why?” Caitlin said, only mildly surprised to hear what she had already suspected to be true. “We don’t know yet,” Doc said. “It just wants us dead. It has no other purpose for its existence.” “I don’t blame you for hating me,” Caitlin said, “but I won’t let you kill me.” “We don’t hate you, Caitlin,” Rex said gently, “and we’re not here to kill you.” “You’re supposed to try.” “Not necessarily,” Doc said gently. “The leaflet says the hosts of these creatures want to destroy the caterpillars as bad as we do. “Is that true?” Caitlin brushed tears from her eyes. “Yes. I’d help you if I could, but I don’t know how. If I don’t help the caterpillar, I get hungry. It’s an awful feeling, worse than just being hungry in the ordinary way.” Doc’s voice softened. “The National Guard tells me in this paper that I’m supposed to ask a few questions, if you’ll help us. The caterpillars store the nourishment they take very efficiently. Do you know why?” “I don’t know why,” Caitlin said. “Can a caterpillar take another host if its host is killed?” - 197 -

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“I don’t know,” Caitlin said near tears. “I’ve never seen it happen.” “I don’t like asking this question, Caitlin, but the paper says to ask if you’ve considered suicide. They say if you do, kill the caterpillar first so that it can’t hurt anyone else.” Caitlin lowered her eyes and refused to answer the question, but said, “Okay. I’ll remember that.” “Do you think you can kill a caterpillar, if you had a chance?” Doc said. Caitlin answered without hesitation, remembering what it had felt like to kick the old man’s caterpillar against the side of the wall. The caterpillars were not pets. They were not things to be cuddled and protected. “I can kill them,” she said. “It’s easy.” “Have you met anyone else with a caterpillar?” “I met an old man with a caterpillar in Orange City last night.” “What happened?” “His caterpillar attacked me,” Caitlin said. “Mine attacked him.” “How did the caterpillars react to one another?” “They don’t even notice each other.” “Do you wander alone by choice?” Doc said, no longer reading the paper. “If you wanted to, could you team with someone else, or a group of hosts with caterpillars?” Caitlin thought about it. “Not me. Maybe others.” “It’s happened,” Doc said. She put her hands to her ears. “I don’t want to hear about children.” Caitlin knew about the children. Doc sighed and consulted his paper. “The National Guard has killed a lot of caterpillars and their hosts. How do you feel about that? Does it make you angry?” “It makes me glad,” Caitlin said. “Kill them all. Kill me, if you can.” - 198 -

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“You don’t really believe we can,” Doc said. “You could shoot me if I’m not careful, but I’m always very careful, because I don’t really want to die. I mean, maybe the caterpillars will die before we do. Doc eyed her unhappily. “You’re looking healthy, child.” Caitlin gazed at Rex, wishing he would compliment her, wishing he wasn’t so afraid of her. She wished he was capable of falling in love with her like he had with Connie. He was with Connie all the time now. They made love when they wanted, day and night. They slept in one another’s arms while she wandered the cold woods alone at night. She could hardly contain her pain and bitterness. She remembered what she had to tell them so as not to be driven away from Brighton Hollow forever. “I won’t let anyone hurt you,” she said. “I can guard Brighton Hollow. I won’t let them near town, I promise. If I can’t stop them, I’ll warn you.” “We thank you for that, Caitlin,” Doc said, and for once, he sounded sincere. But Caitlin wished that Rex had thanked her. “There will be trouble this fall,” Doc said. “A lot of people will be moving west from the coastal cities. They’ll be moving through this area.” She just nodded acknowledgement that she had heard. It meant nothing to her. Doc and Rex stared at her for a time. They were uncomfortable in her presence. They had so little in common now, they could think of nothing more to say to her. They had no more questions. “We should leave now,” Doc said. “I’m getting tired, and it’s a long walk back.” They turned away and left her standing alone. Rex picked up his rifle and slung it over his shoulder. He walked with his eyes to the ground. - 199 -

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Caitlin wanted to call to him. She wanted to invite him to spend the evening with her. They could take shelter in the bus if it rained. But if it hadn’t worked in the past, why did she think it could work now? Besides, as soon as they were gone, her caterpillar came hopping out of the underbrush. Trilling merrily, it climbed onto her shoulders where it could better monitor its environment and her reaction to potential victims. It had obeyed her wishes and had not attacked Doc or Rex, even though she sensed that it was growing very hungry again. But things could not stay the same forever, or even for very long. There weren’t enough people in the world for that to happen, and there were fewer every day since the caterpillars arrived. If people from the cities arrived, that would be good, but only for as long as they lasted.

- 200 -

Thirty-four

C

aitlin got an unexpected chance to fulfill her promise to guard Brighton Hollow. On an early October morning, she sat on an outcropping of rock several miles from Brighton Hollow and watched a caravan crawl along Troll Valley Road. Scouts preceded the strange collection of vehicles. They reached Brighton Hollow and hurried back to report a town just ahead. The entire assembly stopped directly below her position. She counted ten trucks, pickups and vans. Each towed a shell of a van or station wagon stripped of excess weight, its engine, hood, and fenders and piled high with plastic-wrapped baggage, trunks, crates, and ordinary luggage. Tanks of gasoline and water had been lashed to the sides of many vehicles. She saw plenty of guns. Armed men poured into the surrounding trees to guard against ambush. A small machine gun on a tripod was put up at the rear of the procession. - 201 -

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“Wow,” Caitlin murmured. By nightfall, the trucks and their trailers had pulled off the road. Campfires threw an orange glow among the trees. People milled about the fires, laughing and yelling at one another cheerfully. They cooked their meals, fed their babies, and retired to the trailers a couple hours after dark. It rained for part of the night. Caitlin pulled a blue plastic tarp salvaged from a barn over her head to protect her elegant evening gown from the elements. Only the guards moved about at the base of the hill once the rain began to fall in earnest. Shifts changed once every three hours. Occasionally, one of the men would rise from the smaller campfires and go into the trees to pee. They spelled trouble for Brighton Hollow, and Caitlin ventured closer to the vehicles to investigate just after midnight. She saw New York plates. It occurred to her that they had passed through Orange City not too long ago. Maybe a quick visit would give her some idea of how they would treat Brighton Hollow. She calculated the time it would take to reach Orange City on foot and return. She guessed they’d stay put until dawn, and she’d be back before then. The rain had diminished to a drizzle. Caitlin hiked her black evening gown up about her waist and ran barefooted through the trees and then down the middle of the highway. She reached Orange City in an hour and a half, stopping occasionally to catch her breath and enjoy a crescent moon that broke through the silver-rimmed clouds. The caterpillar trilled with irritation now and then, protesting the bumpy ride through the night. She saw the flames two miles outside town. Outlying buildings were on fire. Most of the people left in town had moved further back into the residential areas. Kerosene lights filtered through the trees and guards called to one another in the darkness. - 202 -

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She stumbled across a man who had fallen into the underbrush with a bullet in his chest. Richard Jenkins would have put up a better fight protecting Orange City, she suspected. Again, it was hard to tell if she could justify the victims she had taken, if she had protected the innocent by killing him, or had instead hastened their doom. Dawn brightened the horizon by the time she got back. People stirred to life in the camp. Men with guns came marching down the road from Brighton Hollow, having reconnoitered during the hours of darkness, although the camp embarked upon no immediate, large-scale mobilization. Instead, the men rebuilt the fires. The aroma of cooking food soon wafted through the trees. The smell made Caitlin sick. She moved upwind of the caravan to avoid the stench, a reminder of the widening gulf between herself and ordinary people. A young man with a rifle started up the hill toward her. She rose to her feet to retreat further into the woods, then paused out of curiosity to see what he would do. When he finally spotted her, he froze in his tracks, but he lowered his rifle and let it dangle from one hand rather than try to shoot at her. Caitlin smiled, knowing she had become a beautiful and physically imposing woman since the night of the green meteors. She let him approach closely enough to carry on a conversation. “Hello,” he said mildly. “My name is Ted. Who are you?” “I’m Caitlin,” she said, feeling bubbly with excitement. “Do you live around here?” She let him come closer still, until they could talk softly enough to avoid being heard in the camp below. It didn’t seem likely that he knew much about the caterpillars, or he would not have come so close. “I live in Brighton Hollow just down the way.” - 203 -

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He held his rifle to view. “I just thought I’d come up this way and bag a squirrel or two.” “You’ll have to go a bit further back into the hills,” Caitlin said. “I wouldn’t recommend going alone.” Ted glanced back down at the camp. “I guess you’re right. I was told to stay in sight.” “You’re from New York,” Caitlin said. “Where are you headed?” “Texas,” he said. “We figure it’ll be easier to protect ourselves from the bugs in the open country and cut ourselves a piece of the action when it comes time to clean up the infestations. It’s been a real slaughterhouse in New York. Can I see yours, do you suppose?” The question caught her off guard. “What?” “I thought maybe you’d let me see your bug.” Caitlin reached down and picked up the caterpillar curled at her feet. She held it to view, puzzled by the young man’s nonchalance. “You’ve seen these before?” “Sure. We figure their aren’t so many bugs and zombies per square mile out here in the hills where the population density is low, and probably fewer still in open country. I wouldn’t get any closer to camp, if I were you. You don’t want them to catch you.” “You’re not afraid of me,” Caitlin said, perplexed by the observation. Ted smiled. “No, and I’m not usually stupid enough to get close enough to get myself bit, but I’d sure hate to miss the opportunity to meet a real live zombie for myself.” “I’m not a zombie,” Caitlin said with indignation. “It’s just a word, probably because you look so spaced out when you’re out wandering around. Hell, it’s not your fault. We’re all in this together.” Ted shook his head and chuckled in amazement. “You’ve got to be flat-out the most incredibly beautiful woman I’ve ever - 204 -

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seen in my life, and I’ve seen some godawful zombies since we left the Big Apple. I ran across this one dude, eight and a half fucking feet tall, the meanest, nastiest, scariest bastard Satan himself ever put on the face of the Earth.” “What happened to him?” Caitlin said. “We shot his bug. The feds, what’s left of them, pay in gold and silver for bugs. You can’t eat gold or silver, but anyone who figures we’ll beat the bugs someday stashes it away for posterity. Anyhow, the dude did a swan dive through a tenthstory window rather than let the hunger get him. Things sure seem a lot more peaceful out here in the boonies.” Caitlin didn’t know what to say. Ted stared at her, grinning, sighing. “God, I’d love to fuck you, lady. I think I’ll pass, though. I’ll have this shit-eating grin when I get back as it is, so I’ll have to tell Derek I saw you. Better clear out and let your people know they’ve got visitors.” “Is that good or bad?” Ted shrugged, but his smile faded away, and he wouldn’t look her in the eye. “Not so good. e need gas, water, some food, and we haven’t got much to trade.” “I’ll tell my boyfriend in Brighton Hollow,” Caitlin said, increasingly distrustful of the rifle in Ted’s hand. “He’s a deputy sheriff.” Maybe it hadn’t been wise to let him get so close. The caterpillar could move fast, but a bullet could move even faster. Ted took notice of her growing unrest. He turned the gun upside down and slung it over his shoulder. “Don’t get nervous on me, lady. I’ve seen how fast the bugs can move. Hell, I’ve seen how fast you zombies can move. I don’t mean you no harm.” It seemed incredible that anyone would treat her with so much respect. Ted was like herself in a fashion, a survivor with no hard feelings toward those who might try to kill him. “Maybe some other time,” Caitlin said softly as he backed away. Ted - 205 -

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paused, reluctant to allow the opportunity to pass. He shook his head finally, exasperated by his conflict of emotion. “Maybe in some other life,” he murmured. Caitlin watched him move off along the face of the hill in search of his squirrels. She decided to heed his advice and warn Brighton Hollow. She went up the hill and circled back through the trees to town. Rex Logan had put up a barricade of cars almost all the way around town. Caitlin had only to show herself to a guard to summon him. No one had ever tried to shoot her when she made her reports of vagrants and caterpillars about town. Voices called out, relayed through town and echoing against the surrounding hills. Rex came running down the road within ten minutes. He leaped a car hood and came out to meet her a few hundred yards and out of rifle range of the barricade. “There’s a bunch of trucks and cars a half mile up the road,” Caitlin said. “They’ve got guns and they made a mess of Orange City.” Rex looked pained. “How many?” “Fifty people, maybe. About twenty men with guns.” His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Are you mediating, Caitlin?” Caitlin shook her head frantically. “No! I only spoke to one boy! I’m just trying to warn you!” Rex scowled, but gave her a nod of apology. “The help is sincerely appreciated.” He sidestepped and sat down on a fallen tree trunk. “Can we hold them off, do you think?” Caitlin shook their head. Even the boy had been fearless. They had been on the road a long time, stealing and fighting along the way. “They look pretty mean.” She sat a short distance away. She held the caterpillar firmly in her lap and scooted closer to him when he smiled at her. “Don’t you ever sleep?” he said. “No.” - 206 -

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“Aren’t you cold? Do you want a jacket?” “I’m okay.” “Did they run or fight in Orange City?” “It looked like they ran mostly.” “Nobody’s going to run here.” “The boy I talked to knew about me,” Caitlin said. “He knew about zombies and bugs. That’s what he called me and my caterpillar. He says we looked spaced out when we wander around. I guess I do get sort of spaced out. He wasn’t afraid of me. He said the Feds pay in gold and silver for bugs.” “I suppose I should talk to them.” “Don’t go yourself,” she said with a surge of anxiety. “Send someone else.” “Caitlin, I can’t risk a misunderstanding. If they want to barter, I’ll don’t think they’ll shoot me on sight. Thanks for helping. If you need anything...” “I need you, Rex,” Caitlin said with more passion than she had intended. She wiped away her tears before they froze on her face. “I’m so lonely and scared,” she said in a softer tone of voice. “I feel like a ghost. I don’t have to do anything, not even eat or sleep. I don’t even have to go to the bathroom most of the time. I just walk all over the woods. Like a zombie. I follow my own footprints around in circles sometimes.” Rex looked at the ground at his feet. “I don’t know what I can do to help.” “I wish you loved me like I love you. You’re all I think about. I could put my caterpillar in a box. We could lock it up. You could make Connie go away for just a little while. Please, Rex? Just for once?” Rex shot to his feet and stood with his fists clenched at his sides. “I don’t think I could get away with it. They’d all think I betrayed them. You have to understand how they feel, Caitlin. The caterpillars have killed their friends and families.” - 207 -

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Connie stared at the ground in despair. Agitated, he backed away a safe distance. When she stood to face him, she discovered that they stood nose to nose. He had been taller than her at one time by at least six inches. Caitlin knew exactly what he was thinking. He didn’t trust how she might react to his refusal. “I’ve got to get back,” he said, his voice lame with insincerity. But she saw the hurt in his expression, and it helped to know that it pained him to leave her alone in the cold and the emptiness. The situation wasn’t at all hopeless, though. Now was her chance to be useful to Brighton Hollow, her only chance of walking the streets of the town ever again. If she helped to defend the town against violent outsiders, she would become a heroine. Rex would not have to fear what they would think of him for loving her. If she saved even one life, they would let him reach out and touch her for the first time, and even once would be enough to last forever.

- 208 -

Thirty-five

R

ex walked unarmed up the highway to talk to the leaders of the caravan. Caitlin followed in the trees and sneaked in as close as she dared to overhear their conversation. Guards spotted her, but they shouldered their rifles after a moment’s discussion and thereafter kept little more than a casual watch on her movements. With her keen hearing, she didn’t have to be too close to overhear what was being said. Rex and Derek, a tall man with stringy black hair, shook hands. Derek wore a black leather jacket and earrings. Caitlin imagined him to be a gang leader, a modern day pirate on the prowl. She believed Ted’s story about their reasons for going to Texas, but they were still thieves and pirates looting the small Appalachian towns they encountered along the way. Derek apologized for making a pest of himself. “The fact is, we’re out of gas and out of food. If we’re stuck here, we’ll have to sink roots for the winter, unless you’d be kind enough to donate enough supplies to see us on our way. We’ll settle for - 209 -

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fifty gallons of gasoline and three hundred pounds of canned food. After that, we’re the next guy’s problem.” Rex never flinched. “What do you have to trade?” Derek laughed and gave Rex a friendly slap on the shoulder. “How about ammo? How much and what kind of ammo do you need?” Which would be a dead giveaway of Brighton Hollow’s capacity to defend itself, in Caitlin’s opinion, if Rex was foolish enough to answer the question. “We’re not short of ammo,” Rex said without missing a beat. “We use bows and arrows to hunt and save the armory for self-defense.” Derek’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “We’ve got the military and NATO stuff to spare.” Rex shrugged, refusing to be intimidated. “We could use some of that. How much are you offering?” Derek took a moment to think. His smile had faded away. “You want to see what else we’ve got to offer?” Before Rex could answer, Derek snapped his fingers. Three men came rushing up from behind, each grasping the arms of two teenage girls. Their wrists had been bound behind their back. The men stopped alongside Derek and forced the girls to their knees. “We’ve got too many to feed,” Derek said. “We use them for bait when we stop for the night. When the zombies and the caterpillars close in for the kill, we collect a caterpillar hide. You can have these six for whatever they’re worth to you and a few hundred rounds of whatever ammunition we’ve got laying around.” It was a sucker deal. Derek thought that maybe Rex would be game to save the lives of the innocent girls regardless of cost. “Sounds fair enough,” Rex said evenly. He reached down to help one of the bound girls to her feet. The man holding her arm jerked her out of reach. - 210 -

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“We meet halfway in a couple hours and exchange on the open road,” Derek said. “We’ll be ready to move out as soon as we’ve finished with our business.” “Sounds fine,” Rex said. He turned and started walking back to town at a measured pace. There was going to be trouble. Rex would never sacrifice their meager food supply so casually, and she knew Brighton Hollow had no gasoline. Suspecting that to be the case, Derek looked very angry. He would have to wait to see what Rex offered before risking a confrontation, because taking by force would cost lives. Orange City hadn’t gone down without a fight. His intention had been to intimidate, and Rex had clearly not been intimidated. Whatever happened, it would obviously be something other than the trade the men had agreed upon. Caitlin slipped back out of sight, hoping Rex understood that she was of no use to him in broad daylight, not in the open pitted against men with guns. She watched two hours later as the exchange was consummated. Rex and his friends pulled out a small trailer loaded with gasoline tanks salvaged from abandoned cars and canned food stacked in cardboard boxes. Derek inspected a few of the cans, opened one, sniffed the gas, and then had his men hurry the trailer away. Derek’s men threw the girls to the ground in the middle of the highway and tossed two small boxes of shotgun shells to Rex. The people in the caravan roared with laughter. But when Caitlin heard the excited shouts and cries of anger from within Derek’s camp a short time later, it only confirmed her initial suspicion that Rex hadn’t bartered in good faith, no more than had Derek. Rex had only wanted to save the lives of the girls after all. Somehow, he had cheated Derek, and Caitlin wasn’t so sure it was a smart thing to do. Caitlin pieced together what had happened from snippets of conversation drifting up from the camp. The gas tanks had - 211 -

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been filled with water with only a film of gasoline floating on top to fool a cursory inspection. Most of the canned goods had been opened from the bottom, emptied into other containers, and then filled with mud. Derek had one truck in the convoy with steel plates welded to the front bumper. It drove to the barricade that afternoon and Derek’s men started firing into Brighton Hollow. But the barricade of cars and trucks Brighton Hollow had put up had been placed far enough from town to put most of the houses out of range. With nobody out and about, the gunfire was a waste of valuable ammunition and it soon quit. The plow on the truck could push the barricade of vehicles aside, except that Derek had no idea of Brighton Hollow’s defensive capabilities and wasn’t about to risk lives in broad daylight to find out. So Derek pulled back, and Caitlin guessed that he was going to wait for the cover of darkness to attack. Clearly, Brighton Hollow didn’t have a population large enough to guard every inch of the town’s perimeter. It would be easy enough to slip through when the light of day faded away. Caitlin slipped close to Brighton Hollow at dusk and let her caterpillar take one of the men from the convoy trying to sneak into town. The caterpillar fed. When she rushed up behind another, the caterpillar lashed out in self-defense, killing instantly, but without bothering to take nourishment. She could hear and see better than anyone out in the cold and cloudy night, and she single-handedly put a stop to Derek’s attack. The few who got through weren’t enough to overpower Rex Logan and his men lying in ambush. Most of Derek’s men died in silence with an arrow in their back. Caitlin followed the survivors back to their camp. She wanted to taunt them, to let them know they had been defeated by a mere girl, that Brighton Hollow would be eternally grateful - 212 -

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for her intervention, and that nobody would dare condemn Rex Logan for spending time with her and being her friend. She had no choice but to sit high on the hill overlooking the campfires and keep her silence, anxious for the new day to arrive and for Derek and this camp to leave. It was enough that Rex would be waiting for her after they were gone. Brighton Hollow would find the bodies lying around the perimeter and know that she had saved many lives. A cry sounded just before dawn of the second day. Caitlin moved along the ridge in search of the cause. She could see nothing through the intervening trees and risked a closer approach. There were no guards. Caitlin scanned the edge of camp, certain she could detect men in hiding among the trees if they were there. Maybe Derek had accepted his defeat and saw no need for them. Regardless, there was nothing keeping Caitlin from drawing near the tormented cries. Caitlin took a seat on a log to study what she found. A girl had been hung from her crossed and bound wrists from the low branch of a tree. A cage had been placed before her. In the cage, a caterpillar crawled to and fro, a hungry caterpillar in search of escape. A caterpillar without a host. The bound girl was trying to remain both quiet and very still. It wasn’t working. Every time the caterpillar sniffed the air, the girl cried out and tried to pull back from harm’s way. The caterpillar was within striking range. As soon as it grew hungry enough to feed, it would lash out at her. “Bastards,” Caitlin murmured. It wasn’t clear to her why the girl was being tormented. She was on the inside of a wire fence that had been unrolled and now extended about the perimeter of the camp. A generator throbbed somewhere within the compound. A few - 213 -

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electric lights glowed from within large canvas tents. Otherwise, the camp was quiet. Caitlin was certain she could scale the low fence, kill the caterpillar before it struck, and untie the girl. If anyone interfered, they couldn’t possibly aim and fire in the darkness any faster than her caterpillar could strike at them. She felt no deep compassion for the girl’s plight, but she knew that Rex would appreciate the gesture. If she saved the life of this girl, her humanity in the eyes of Brighton Hollow would be heightened. She could show them that she wasn’t the monster they thought. She could show them that she deserved Rex Logan’s love and admiration. She stood and approached the low fence. When the bound girl spotted her, she went rigid with tension. Caitlin thought that she might scream and foolishly attract the attention of the guards. “I want to help you,” Caitlin said in a whisper just loud enough to carry to the girl. The girl bobbed her head in response and grew as still with anticipation as a statue. The caterpillar in the cage sniffed the air again, sensing Caitlin’s presence and maybe the presence of another of its own kind. Caitlin set her caterpillar on the side of a tree and scaled the fence. Or, at least that was her intention. She grabbed the upper strand of wire and unwittingly completed an electrical circuit between the voltage coursing through the wire and the damp ground at her feet. The electrical shock was an explosion that wracked her body. It knotted her muscles and froze her in place. An alarm went off inside the compound. Men came running. The invisible power locking her muscles ended. Men grabbed her arms and pulled her around to an opening gate. “Turn the power back on! Watch yourselves!” They dropped her to the ground inside the fence. The toe - 214 -

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of a boot rolled her onto her stomach. Her burned hands were wrenched behind her back. Cuffs snapped shut on her wrists. She thought she heard Leon murmuring to her, but it was Derek, the leader of the group. “We’re going to have an interesting time together, you and me,” he was saying. “The bug!” a shrill voice screamed. “The bug is coming over the fence!” She heard a snapping noise. She smelled an acrid odor and saw flames burst from orange and brown fur. “Three hundred bucks up in smoke!” Derek roared in anger. “I told you I wanted it intact!” Her smoldering caterpillar dropped at Caitlin’s side. She heard herself screaming louder than any victim she had ever taken. Their deaths had been quick and merciful, not at all like the very special and terrible way that she was going to die.

- 215 -

Thirty-six

C

aitlin never lost consciousness entirely. She drifted in and out of a state of shock. When the confusion cleared away, she found herself covered by a grimy sheet pulled to her chin, her wrists and ankles tied to the corners of a folding cot. Her black dress had been getting too tight, so she could tell that they had taken it off. The cot she lay upon centered the inside of a large tent. A camcorder on a tripod stood at the foot of the cot, its glass eye staring down at her. Numerous kerosene lanterns lined the inside wall of the tent, filling it with a bright orange light and a bluish haze of fumes. Derek pushed a flap aside and entered. He pulled a folding chair around and sat at her side. “You killed five of our best men tonight.” Which meant that she herself was going to die. “We break about even,” Derek said. “You’re worth five men. What the hell. I recruit en route anyhow.” - 216 -

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Caitlin did not understand the game he was playing. “You notice that the little red light glowing on the camcorder?” Caitlin hadn’t noticed. “That means the curtain is up,” Derek said. “The show is on the road. This is where it all starts, where the audience reads the title and credits and all that crap. Except we can do without a title, and we don’t need a director and all that jazz. All we need is a star for our picture, a beautiful, ripe, overgrown zombie, and we sure do got one of those. You’re going to make us big bucks.” Caitlin’s heart beat a little faster. They were going to videotape her death. The hunger would be worse than any torment she could imagine, but at least the nightmare would end here and now. It would have gotten so much worse had it been allowed to run its course. Derek gave her an evil chuckle. “I see a defiant tilt to your chin. You’ve been through hell. You can take the worst we can dish out, is that it?” Caitlin trembled. He had anticipated her. He knew more about zombies and bugs than she did. He had watched them both die. In growing apprehension, Caitlin began testing the integrity of the cord binding her ankles and wrists to the corners of the cot. The cord seemed to be nylon, and the frame of the cot solid metal. “Excellent! That’s a good start! It builds suspense! Six long hours of rising suspense and excitement begins with a little tug here and there!” Derek leaned closer and whispered to her. “You have no idea what they pay to watch our little features. It was a big thing in New York before our audiences dried up, if you’ll pardon the pun.” Caitlin paused, rigid with tension, waiting for an explanation. Why six hours? What did he know that she didn’t? - 217 -

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“You’ve got it, babe. Six long, erotic hours of top-grade performance. You’re going to sing and dance for us, you pretty little zombie.” “You can’t do this to me!” Caitlin shrieked at the man. Derek stood. He bunched the sheet covering her body in his fist. “Yes, I can.” He jerked the sheet away. Caitlin writhed with humiliation and outrage. She tried to hide her face from the dispassionate gaze of the camera eye rotating to put the view of her stark nudity in sharp focus. “You know how strong the hunger is,” Derek said. “What you probably don’t know is how bad it gets. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. It’s unbelievable. It truly is.” Derek walked around the cot, staring down at her. Resistance was futile, but already she suffered the first twinge of need. She needed the caterpillar at her neck. She needed to be fed. “I’d call it a snuff film, except that we’re not committing murder,” Derek said. “Hell, we’re not even breaking any law. You’d think that people would have to be sick to watch such a thing, but you’ve caused them a thousand times more pain than you’ll ever suffer. It’s like watching a witch burn at the stake. Retribution is almost a family affair these days.” Derek turned toward the entrance. “Bring it in!” Two men brought in a wire cage containing a caterpillar. Caitlin cried out, overjoyed by the sight of the orange and brown creature. The two men set the cage on a table at the head of the cot. Then they ambled back out, reluctant to tear their eyes away from the goddess lying naked before them, but far more fearful of Derek’s displeasure. “Don’t they wish,” he muttered as they hurried away. He turned back to her with a smile. “I can tell you’re surprised. We don’t normally keep live bugs in camp, maybe just one for these special occasions. But you see, experience - 218 -

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has taught us that a zombie gives up too easily unless we place a glimmer of hope within reach. Besides, our audience may never have seen a bug before. It’s an added attraction. Generally speaking, the public never survives a close examination. Isn’t that true in your own experience?” Derek retreated to the entrance, looking about the tent to ensure that all was as it should be. Then he grinned at her. “Just so we start things off on the proper note, I’ll give you some idea of what makes this so interesting. Imagine a human body with so much strength and endurance that it can literally tear itself apart, convulsions so powerful that they break bones, snap ligaments, and tear flesh and muscle. You’ll break that cot to pieces before you’re dead and lie writhing in the dirt. I’ve got a bet made that you last six hours. That’ll be a record for us, true, but it’s been awhile since we’ve seen a real knock-out zombie as impressive as yourself. I’ve got faith that you won’t disappoint me.” Caitlin flew into a rage, confident that if she turned enough anger loose, she could free herself and kill half the population of the camp with her bare hands. She screamed loud enough to be heard in Brighton Hollow. She fell silent when she discovered that she indeed had the strength to free herself, but only if she crippled herself in the process. Sharp twinges of pain here and there warned her in no uncertain terms. Horrified, she tried to relax and hold at bay realization of how ghastly it was going to be. Derek had spoken the truth. She could feel the caterpillar’s terrible energy being fed to every muscle in her body, giving her the strength to literally tear herself to pieces. “Somebody help me!” Nobody would. The show had just begun. The cold eye of the camera peered down upon her with infinite patience, recording the pattern of light and shadow on her body as it - 219 -

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began its slow dance of self-destruction. The caterpillar just out of reach, she discovered, was the same hungry insect that had baited the trap she had fallen into. From its position just over a yard away, its gray tongue lanced out at her. And failed to reach by a mere three inches.

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ix hours to die. After the first half hour, Caitlin knew that her sanity would not survive a fraction of it. The hunger in itself became desperation beyond measure. Her body writhed with a life of its own, her muscles cramping and contracting, pulling one against the other until she screamed herself hoarse in protest of the pain. As Derek had promised, it wouldn’t be long before she’d tear herself to pieces. Through it all, she would be conscious. The caterpillar had endowed her with superhuman endurance and inadvertently given her the ability to suffer beyond human understanding of the word. She wanted to scream unendingly. Instead, her voice gave out. From the depths of her agony, horror emerged like a cold vacuum. Any moment now, her bodily tissues would begin tearing. Her bones would begin to snap. A gunshot caused her to jerk so violently that the fire of a pulled tendon stabbed through her like a shaft of iron heated - 221 -

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to incandescent. The single gunshot was followed by a flurry of crackling and popping noises. Men, women and children screamed in fear and in anger from all sides through the thin fabric of her tent. When the commotion died down, a man exploded through the flap of the tent and leveled a rifle at her. “Oh, my God!” He rushed back out again. He came back with a second man who gawked at the sight of Caitlin’s body twisting in its strange contortions. He then turned his head aside and vomited on the dirt floor. “Kill me!” Caitlin said with all that was left of her voice. She recognized both of them. They were from Brighton Hollow, and neither of them was going to shoot the stepdaughter of Sheriff Leon Biggs. “Better let Rex take care of this,” one of the men said. They both vanished. Within seconds of their departure, Caitlin suspected that she had hallucinated her would-be rescuers. Her tortured mind was seeking any means of escape from the escalating pain, even imaginary ones. She opened her eyes when someone touched her arm. Hallucination or not, the distraction was a blessing. Rex stood over her wielding a knife. He turned the blade downward, and it passed out of her sight. The pain of its thrust into her body would have hardly been felt. It would have released her from her nightmare in an instant. It never came to pass. She panicked, thinking that Rex Logan, too, was going to leave her to die in this horrible manner, but her legs and arms were suddenly free. It accomplished little. She had no motor coordination left. She could make no use of her freedom. She raised her head, rolling her eyes up to the caterpillar’s cage at the head of the cot. Rex understood what she wanted. He couldn’t kill - 222 -

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her. He could either abandon her to die, or he could free the caterpillar. Either it would feed her and take a second host, or end her suffering and feed itself. Rex circled around back of the cage and sliced a nylon tie holding the lid in place, then slipped out of the tent, abandoning Caitlin to whatever fate held in store for her. Freed, the caterpillar pawed the air with half its body length. The gray tongue lashed out and spiked her in the shoulder. Caitlin waited for the paralysis and the final agony of death, but the caterpillar withheld its venom. It leaped onto the cot alongside her head for a closer examination. She felt it sniffing about her neck. She saw the gray tongue retract. The caterpillar bit her, reaching deep for the carotid artery. Despite its own need to feed, the insect recognized the greater need to take a host. Caitlin’s convulsions quieted. She sighed, overpowered by the sweet sensation of feeding. Pleasure became a torment almost a great as the pain she had experienced. She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. Tears filled her eyes. How many lives had Rex sacrificed to save her? What did that say about his feelings for her? Except that his love and his gesture of compassion had backfired. No matter how terrible her death, her suffering would have ended in a few more hours. Now, the nightmare would continue toward its inevitable conclusion. In the end, when there were no more people left in the world, her death-ofall-deaths would begin all over again. And there would be nobody left to stop it.

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hree of Derek’s men burst into the tent, two side by side, then a third pushing in from behind. The caterpillar raised its head from Caitlin’s throat. Before the third man was completely inside, the other two had been bitten. The third man died before the first two struck the floor. She sat up. The pain of knotted muscles, pulled ligaments and partially dislocated joints was excruciating, but irrelevant for the moment. Livid with anger, she fought her way to her feet and put the caterpillar on her shoulders rather than allowing it to claw its way up her bare body on its own. She staggered about the cot until she could balance herself and navigate through the haze of pain. Then she pushed her way outside. As an afterthought, she went back inside and grabbed the camera, dragging both it and its tripod along behind her. Her new caterpillar was larger than her old one. Its tongue had a longer reach, and it was far more aggressive. As she wended her way through the protective cluster of vehicles,

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it struck faster than a cobra, faster than human reflexes could defend against. She left carnage in her wake. The camp was small enough to track Derek down by a process of elimination. She found him in one of the last tents she searched, sitting at a desk and writing in a notebook. Two armed guards stood to either side of the desk. Almost comically, the two guards collapsed as Derek stood, struck down by the caterpillar that was already so well tuned to her that it knew she wanted Derek left unharmed for the moment. Caitlin set the camcorder on its tripod off to one side and pointed it at the man. “I want my dress back,” she said, her voice hoarse and all but unintelligible. Derek stared at her until he managed to interpret her words. “Janet!” he called out. “I need the zombie’s dress! Now!” A woman with pale eyes and a face darkened by sunburn stuck her head inside the tent, gasped, and then withdrew. She returned moments later and tossed the wadded dress at Caitlin’s feet with a twisted expression of resentment on her pinched face. The caterpillar struck without Caitlin’s bidding, catching the woman in the throat. Derek bellowed anguish. The corpse bent over backward at the waist as it melted. The head touched ground. The body then slipped sideways, collapsing like air escaping a balloon. The caterpillar left a furrow of bloody scratches in Caitlin’s flesh as it rushed from her shoulder to feed. With one eye on Derek, Caitlin picked up and shook out her gown and inspected it for damage. She slipped it over her head thinking that it fit better with the few seams that had been torn open. But her arms were so sore, and her hands so badly burned that she couldn’t reach behind herself to work the zipper. She half turned and backed up to the man. “You do it.” - 225 -

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Derek inched forward, pale and sweating, and zipped up her evening gown with a trembling hand. “Thank you very much,” Caitlin said. She turned to confront him face to face. “Your new tape is going to be more entertaining than you thought.” Derek tried to move away, knowing the caterpillar would attack self-defensively as close as he was to its host. Caitlin reached out with a bare foot and stepped on his right boot to hold him in place. He swung a fist at her face, and she caught it in the palm of a burned and cut hand. He gave her a vicious undercut to the stomach with his left hand, but his balled fist rebounded from a solid sheath of muscle. It hurt Caitlin. Her entire body was mottled black and blue from the self-inflicted bruising she had suffered. But she smiled at his feeble effort. Derek went wild, throwing his weight from side to side in an effort to pull loose from her deadly grip. His cries of terror rose the scale to a girlish scream. Nearby, the caterpillar finished peeing its two gallons of filtered water, then turned to assess Caitlin’s new situation. When the caterpillar struck at its remaining victim, Caitlin turned away. She left the tent and thought no more of what she had done. Derek had not suffered much. She would not have wished him to suffer as she had. No human being could commit sins worthy of that degree of punishment, not even the horror of horrors that she had become.

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righton Hollow awoke two days later to an unexpected dusting of snow and frost and temperatures that had fallen into the twenties. Not all the trees in the surrounding hills had finished dropping their canopies of leaves in the onrush of a premature winter. Entire canopies of frost-bitten and wilting green leaves stood against the white landscape. Rex Logan fetched two cups of coffee from the community kitchen at the fire station and delivered them to Doc’s house. He found Doc in his office, dressed in a winter coat, gloves, and a knit ski cap pulled over his ears. “I thought you were going to light the kerosene heater,” Rex said casually, setting the still steaming coffee before the man. “The fumes may be worse for me than the cold,” Doc said. He sipped his coffee. “Sit down and visit.” Rex sat. “Did Wallace die?” “This morning. I couldn’t do anything for him.” - 227 -

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Wallace had been a middle-aged truck farmer who had taken a bullet through a lung during the raid on Derek’s camp. Rex had risked the lives of his men, Wallace included, to save Caitlin’s life. Once she had been freed, however, she had single-handedly decimated what was left of the camp, just as Rex had guessed would happen. “I noticed you had the road blocks removed,” Doc said. “I’m moving them on through, what’s left of them.” “How many are you going to let stay?” Rex shrugged, hoping Doc wouldn’t make him reconsider his decision. “We’ve had twenty or thirty requests for asylum. We’re accepting those that were taken prisoner along the way. We don’t have food for even those few, but we can’t just ignore what they’ve been through. I was thinking that some of the women and kids wouldn’t be too much of a burden.” Doc shook his head sorrowfully. “Your decision may come back to haunt you later this winter.” “So be it.” Doc grinned. “We make a good team, you and I, your compassion and my pragmatism.” “Take your vitamins and stay warm,” Rex said. Doc studied him in silence. “What’s got you so upset? Caitlin again?” “She’s out there somewhere, wandering barefoot in the snow dressed in a fucking evening gown. I swear to God she’s not even human anymore. Have you seen the size of her?” “It’s a pituitary and hormonal disturbance,” Doc said. “The caterpillar’s venom has an effect on the host similar to growth hormones, but much broader in scope.” “She’s like a goddess with that thing riding on her neck. Why do those caterpillars have to feed so much?” “I’ve only gotten that one news bulletin from Culverton,” Doc said. “The insects store certain kinds of cellular material - 228 -

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from their victims in almost solid form. Nobody is guessing why.” “She’s alone out there, Doc. I don’t think a human being has ever been so alone.” “It’s possible that her size is intended to demoralize us,” Doc said. “Her health is certainly intended to maximize the sheer quantity of humanity she can kill.” “And this godforsaken weather? Are they doing that, too?” “It’s hard to see these record low temperatures as a coincidence on top of everything else, but it might be just that, except that it’s a phenomena on an astronomical scale. The stars are disappearing.” Rex stared at the man. “Check it out for yourself some night. It’s as if the sun is moving into an opaque cloud of dust or gas. The aurora Borealis is brighter, I’ve heard.” “It’s been cloudy so often, I haven’t noticed,” Rex said. “I’m not sure if I have resources left to give a damn.” Rex rose restlessly to his feet. His visits were frequent, but never long. “Don’t go after her, son. There’s nothing you can do.” “I would go after her, but I’m scared to death of her, Doc. I was scared of her when she was a fourteen-year-old vixen trying to get into my pants. I never seem to give the poor girl a break.” “If you had? What would have happened?” “Leon would have fired me, prosecuted me, maybe. Maybe I’d have gone to jail. But we would have made a go of it, Caitlin and I. I think Caitlin was supposed to have been my life. I seriously think I blew it.” Rex returned to the apartment to find Connie huddled alongside the heater in the kitchen. e rushed across the room - 229 -

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and shut it off. “I told you we need the kerosene for this winter. Why are you burning it now?” “I don’t care about this winter,” Connie said listlessly. “I’m cold now. Besides, we’re out of wood.” Rex took his ax and walked to the edge of town. He began chopping at the trees that had been felled by a chain saw. Too few of the townspeople spend the hours in the hills needed to store an adequate supply of firewood. Caitlin was out there somewhere, and the town was terrified of her. She had assured Brighton Hollow that she would defend the town against others like herself, but the sheer carnage she had wrought had worked against her image as a protector. Rex had less fear of her than in the past, but he had a growing obsession to contend with and feelings of remorse. He spent most of the day working off his excess energy, then sent out a team with a sled to bring in the wood he had cut. He stood at the apartment window watching the men in the distance hurriedly fill a make-shift trailer and return to town. Connie came up beside him. Rex could smell alcohol on her breath. “You’re still moping over that mutant bitch,” she said venomously. “It’s not her fault.” “You’re in love with her,” Connie said. “Around and around we go.” “I hate you, Rex Logan.” “I hate you, too, Connie.” “She’s going to come around again, you know. And when she does, I’m going to kill her.” “That’s why I let you keep the gun. I’m confident you won’t use it on me, or yourself, until you’ve taken your crack at her.” She wailed her frustration at his apathy and swung away. - 230 -

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Rex scanned the face of the hills, haunted by the thought of Caitlin roaming the wilderness in her black evening gown. She’d not survive in the long run, but who in Brighton Hollow would be left alive to gloat? There was prey for her caterpillar out in the hills. When it was gone, where could she go but back to Brighton Hollow to feed? He had been aware of the consequences when he had freed her. He had knowingly sacrificed Bright Hollow’s long term security for the short term benefit Caitlin had provided, although Brighton Hollow’s eventual extinction was a forgone conclusion in any case. The caterpillars and the deadly cold winter went hand in hand. It didn’t seem likely the town could survive either, but out of morbid curiosity, he intended to ride the nightmare out to the very end just to see where it would go.

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aitlin haunted the edges of Brighton Hollow, wandering the cold and the dark alone. They wouldn’t let her in. Every time she approached the guarded perimeter, she could hear rounds chambered in high-powered hunting rifles with scopes. If she moved closer, someone was bound to shoot her. Regardless, hunger and not rejection forced her to take her caterpillar away from Brighton Hollow. She moved at random in the wilderness and found herself one cold morning close again to Orange City. It snowed during the long walk. Three more premature inches of cold white powder fell from a low overcast. The wooded hills would be barren soon. It would be harder to move about unseen. Now that most of humanity knew about the caterpillars and their hosts, she feared she would have to become an active huntress to survive. Even Derek and Leon had not been so evil as what she had become. The outlying homes in Orange City came into view. The - 232 -

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first people she saw were not local. Three men intercepted her on an open hillside. They were both black and white men, wearing light, fashionable clothes and tennis shoes against the cold. They circled her with gleaming switchblades, knowing her for what she was and taking for granted she would have to die to safeguard their own lives. Caitlin held her ground, confident they would back away when they noticed the caterpillar missing from its usual position on the shoulder of its host. Forewarned that they had not caught the bug and its zombie unaware, they stood back to back to defend themselves against the inevitable attack. Despite their vigilance, the caterpillar crept beneath the snow cover, climbed a sapling close to the trio, and killed two of the men all but simultaneously. The third man escaped for whatever his survival was worth to him. Caitlin went on alone, leaving the caterpillar to feed. The caterpillar caught up with her a half hour later and dropped her to her knees to feed her in its usual, brutal fashion. It had shredded her evening gown scampering up and down her body, leaving slashes of white and bloodied skin exposed to the light of day. While she was in the area, Caitlin went to check on the young man and his baby. She found a tiny hole had been dug in the front yard and marked by a crude cross. She checked inside and found the young father of the infant a headless corpse in his bed. A shotgun lay across the body. Caitlin left the house knowing now why the hosts of the caterpillars were called zombies. The cold emptiness inside her intensified worse than ever. She walked in a fugue, unable to cry tears over the two heartbreaking deaths, her life reduced to a blur of misery and hopelessness. She could hear nothing in the surrounding forest. Had the entire human population of Orange City died? She approached the town until somebody took a potshot at her. She - 233 -

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turned off at a slight angle as the crackle echoed in the hills. The population had taken refuge in an easily-defended school, giving her the opportunity to rummage through deserted houses for something more appropriate to wear. She found a house that had not as yet been ransacked for supplies. She looked through an upstairs bedroom and selected a rugged pair of man’s denim pants that would fit, an extra large flannel shirt, and a pair of hunting boots with room to spare that laced up past her ankles. As an afterthought, she pulled on a knit wool cap over her ears and stuffed a pair of gloves in her pocket. She tried on a jacket, but quickly overheated, and she discarded it. As an afterthought, she folded the evening gown and stuffed it inside her shirt, unwilling to part with the garment entirely. People were not faring well in the countryside. She found frozen bodies in a small hardware store on the edge of town. Two had been shot. The others, including two children, were huddled about a kerosene stove that had run out of fuel. She walked another five miles to the interstate to see how civilization beyond Brighton County fared. She sat an a hill overlooking a deserted truck stop and saw only two army trucks come down the highway during the course of the day. She stared east along the twin lanes of the highway cutting through the valley, tempted to wander at random in that direction. She passed near Culverton where the Isbeks and the Kingsleys had fought their petty feud that had somehow sent Katrina and Vivian running for their lives. Not that it would be good time to visit. She and her caterpillar would not be warmly welcomed. It occurred to her that if she wandered too far from Brighton Hollow for any extended period of time, she should say good-bye to Rex Logan and Aunt Vivian. She hadn’t visited Aunt Vivian since Leon’s death, fearing that Vivian would panic - 234 -

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at the sight of her. But Aunt Vivian was her last tie with her old life and Caitlin owed her one last apology and farewell before she left, and maybe a warning to Rex Logan to bolster his guard around town when she was gone. She waited until nightfall before she slipped back into Brighton Hollow. Leon’s house was dark, but the doors were unlocked and the house empty, littered with the clothes of strangers, bones, and the dust of bones. She ignored it all, wandering the dark rooms to rekindle old memories. Few were pleasant memories. She stood in the doorway of her old bedroom, wishing her radio still worked. She missed music. She hadn’t slept in a bed in weeks. She hadn’t slept at all. She held one of her old shifts against her new body and laughed out loud. She could not have gotten it over her head even. She paused on the way past Vivian’s room. The door was ajar and she pushed it open and looked inside. She expected to see nothing. It was far too cold for Aunt Vivian to be living here alone. Regardless, Aunt Vivian was in bed after all, and she had survived the caterpillars. She lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling with her gnarled hands clutching an old comforter. The one window in the room was broken. A tree branch had pushed itself inside and the wind had blown in the last rain and coated everything with a glaze of ice, including Aunt Vivian’s hands and face. “Aunt Vivian?” Caitlin entered the room and closed the door behind her. Unsteady on her feet and lightheaded, she sat on the edge of the bed for a time. The caterpillar stirred restlessly on her shoulders, sensing her upset. Life had become so strange since the advent of the caterpillars. It had become unreal, a very bad waking dream that she couldn’t hope to escape. If only she would wake up - 235 -

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some morning to a parallel world of warmth and Indian summer filled with gentle and loving people. Caitlin continued to wander the house, desperate to revive sparse pleasant memories from her childhood. The effort was futile. There were no pleasant memories, and she had no regrets that the past was gone. For the first time in her life, she was on her own, and when she thought about it, she decided she felt just fine. The caterpillar had given her everything she needed. In trade, it had taken Leon Biggs and a world that would not have cared had she been raped and murdered and buried in the hills behind her house by the Rather brothers. She left the house just before dawn, pulling the door closed behind her for the last time. She cut between the houses of the mostly deserted residential area of town to where Rex Logan lived above the old meat market. A kerosene lantern burned in an upstairs window. “Rex!” Her cry echoed in the cold morning silence. “Rex Logan, I need to speak with you!” Wind stirred the brittle, frozen leaves in the trees. The door at the foot of the stairs creaked, tugged by the cold wind. Caitlin lifted her caterpillar from her shoulders and set it on the side of a tree. She went up the stairs and paused before the door at the top. “Rex? Are you home?” Someone had to be home. Neither Rex nor Connie would have left the lantern burning, and Connie would have thrown hysterics at the sound of her voice. That meant that Rex was here after all. He was just reluctant to answer her, knowing what she wanted, and aware of his feelings about her and his freedom to do what he wanted now that Leon Biggs was gone. Caitlin went inside the apartment. It was too warm. The heat made her head spin. The faint aroma of roasted venison wafted from the kitchen and turned her stomach. Just being - 236 -

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inside a cramped space made her claustrophobic. Her head brushed the door jam entering the room. The door creaked closed behind her. Caitlin turned, smiling brightly, prepared at long last to let Rex Logan take her into his arms. But it was Connie Danielson standing before her. Connie wore a terry cloth robe that hung open and furry white slippers on her feet. She lifted a gun in her hand and fired twice at point blank range without the slightest hesitation. Caitlin’s reactions would never be quicker than a bullet, but they were far quicker than Connie’s aim, or her trigger finger. She had all the time in the world to step out of the way, first to one side, then the other. One shot went through a window, and the second went into a wall. Connie’s eyes widened in horror when she saw that she had missed. She sidestepped Caitlin and fled down the stairs screaming. Caitlin panicked. No! Don’t go out there!” She went after the woman. She caught up with Connie at the bottom of the steps, but it was already too late. Connie had stopped. Caitlin reached out and turned her around by the shoulder. A stray breeze opened the crimson robe, exposing her pale white body. And the caterpillar clutched to her midsection. Feeding. “No!” Caitlin shrieked. “Not her!” Connie’s head fell back with an expression of complete horror frozen upon her face. Caitlin was still screaming as the wave of blackness swept up the torso and melted one exposed breast. Caitlin ran out into the yard, not entirely aware that she was still screaming. A few moments later, a high velocity bullet shattered a nearby fence slat with a bee-like whine and - 237 -

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peppered the side of her face with bits of wood. The sound came next, a rifle shot echoing from several blocks away. She ran across the yard and leaped the picket fence. Two more bullets sought her out, one splintering a sapling ten feet in front of her, the other gouging the ground at her feet and sparking brightly against a rock. She paused just inside the trees at the edge of town. Men were running to Connie’s rescue from the nearby tavern. Rex Logan was among them. “It was an accident!” Caitlin screamed in a powerful voice that echoed in the hills. “I didn’t mean to do it!” Rex found the body. He just stood there looking down at what the caterpillar had left behind while Caitlin screamed at him, trying to make him understand that she hadn’t meant to do it. Rex then lifted his rifle and fired. Again, before she even heard the shot, she felt the wind of a bullet breeze by her head. “I’ll kill you!” came his echoing cry, intermingled with her own plea for understanding. “I didn’t mean to do it! Rex, I love you!” Rex threw the emptied rifle aside. He drew his revolver. He walked down the sidewalk and out into the street for a clear view, firing as he came. Caitlin closed her eyes and waited for death. Bullets whined and snapping through the trees and dead foliage. Rex saw what she was doing and stopped. He lowered his revolver and stared at her with an expression both haunted and horrified. Tears fell from his eyes and froze on his cheeks. Caitlin began to fear he would freeze to death if he just stood there staring at her. Overpowered by guilt and remorse, all of the simple pleasure of just being alive drained away from her. With it went any hope of salvation. Even her everlasting love for Rex Logan died. Her soul had been stripped bare by the killing machine - 238 -

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she had become and the terror she inflicted upon her own kind. She turned away and walked back into the hills. Rex and the townspeople refused to pursue her. She became a true zombie in the hours and day that passed, an empty void of consciousness wandering at random. She walked day and night to dispel the unwanted energy infused into her when the caterpillar inflicted its regular force-feedings. She walked through the rolling, tree-covered hills of the Appalachians wishing she would stumble into a hole in the ground and fall deep enough for the earth to cover her and hide her forever from the eyes of the world.

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Forty-one

W

hen daylight failed, Caitlin stood against the trunk of larger trees to block the irritating flutter of the winter wind. She closed her eyes and simply waited out the long winter night. The cold had no effect upon her. She had forgotten how it felt to sleep. he closest she came to unconsciousness was the mind-numbing fugues that came over her while wandering the unending fields of snow. She returned to alertness often enough to keep the sun to her face in the mornings and at her back in the afternoons, remembering her vague intention to go east. During the dark afternoon hours an indeterminate number of days later, the flickering light of a campfire snapped her to full conscious. Both she and her caterpillar were dangerously hungry. Regardless of who they were, or how good or evil, she would have to let the caterpillar feed. She drew closer, moving from tree to tree until she could make out the details of their camp. They were hunters with - 240 -

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rifles and animal carcasses tied to a makeshift sled. Two men sat facing one another across a campfire, sipping coffee and talking. Her caterpillar leaped away and vanished in the dark in an instant. “She’s taken on too many mouths to feed,” the older of the pair growled. “That bug draped around her neck never made her any smarter, the old bitch.” “Kind of dangerous talking that way,” the young one said. “You’ll find yourself feeding the old bitch’s bug.” The older man laughed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right, but figure it out for yourself. We’re low on ammo. We bag in a week what we used to bag in a day, and it’s hardly enough to feed our own families. And we’re going to get scurvy to boot eating nothing but meat, even if we had enough of it. I give the town another week or two before they riot and kill the bitch. Then they’ll kill each other over the pickings, and the zombies and their bugs will move in to mop up the leftovers. I plan to be out on a hunting party with a loaded rifle when that happens. Best you keep your eyes open as well and not get caught up in it.” The heat and odors emanating from the campfire repelled her. The conversation, though, piqued her interest. She circled upwind of the fire and tried to move in closer still. A twig snapping beneath the snow cover gave her away. The two men rose to their feet and had her spotted in an instant. Caitlin stepped into view to distract their attention so that the caterpillar could outflank them. Armed with just bows, they were defenseless. In one smooth movement, they moved from beneath the trees, stood back to back in the open, and notched an arrow. “You think it’s going to be that easy?” the older man called out to her. “Do you think we’re that stupid?” She upped her assessment of the risk a bit. If they knew the caterpillar’s tactic of dropping down from above, they were experienced and had survived caterpillar attacks in the - 241 -

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past. Neither was the snow deep enough here to mask its movement. Regardless, Caitlin drew closer to heighten the distraction. She stayed close to the cover of a tree in case they shot an arrow at her, but if either tried it, it would likely give the caterpillar a window of opportunity. Neither were the bugs stupid. “Girlie, look on the sled,” the older man growled at her. She looked and saw dead animals. Then she spotted orange and brown furs of caterpillars tied to the side rails. “We get rations for caterpillars,” he called out. “The Matron doesn’t like competition.” Caitlin thought she understood what was happening. Hunter and prey alike stood out like red flags against the snow and desolation of the winter landscape. Caterpillars no longer had the advantage. Roles could switch moment to moment in a life and death struggle, depending on who spotted whom first. “You were talking about a woman with a caterpillar,” Caitlin said, more curious than frightened of the two. If they killed her caterpillar, they would have to kill her, too. And that would be that. “Well, you got smart zombies and you got stupid ones like yourself,” the man said. “We got ourselves one of the smartest running the show in town.” “What town?” Caitlin said. “I’m not likely to divulge that information, ma’am.” “She lives in a town with ordinary people?” Caitlin said incredulously. “She sure as hell does just that.” “You’re not afraid of her?” Both men chuckled. “Not if we do what we’re told,” the talkative one said. “We don’t got no reason to be afraid of - 242 -

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her. She takes care of us, and we take care of her. At least it worked out when there was enough food to go around.” Caitlin thought that she’d like to meet a woman with a caterpillar who lived among ordinary people. It was the kind of trade she had offered Brighton Hollow, except that they hadn’t trusted her. How, she wondered, had the Matron come to be trusted? She was probably just older and wiser and not stupid enough to let her caterpillar kill the girlfriend of the man she loved. “Will she talk to me, do you think?” Caitlin said. The two men grinned at her. “We got something else planned for you.” She scanned the surrounding ground, concerned for her caterpillar, and caught sight of orange-brown fur. Her slight gasp of surprise alerted the two men. They turned in unison and fired with startling speed. Caitlin was screaming when both arrows pierced the caterpillar. Except that the caterpillar struck from another direction in the same instant Caitlin took notice of her mistake. The brown fur she had seen was a dead ground hog. The hunters had reacted to her conviction, and her mistake had cost at least one of them his life. The older man screamed. Caitlin closed her eyes and held her hands over her ears. She and others like herself were killing the whole world. She wanted nothing more than to die herself rather than witness another death. The younger one could have put an arrow in her in that moment. Instead, while the caterpillar fed, he threw the sled harness over his shoulders, leaned into his burden, and escaped into the trees. “It was a mistake!” Caitlin called out to him. “I didn’t mean for it to happen!” Humiliation heated her face. Despair swept over her. There was no end to her stupidity. - 243 -

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She followed the boy for several miles. Her caterpillar caught up to her and perched on her shoulder. When the hunter exhausted himself and stopped to rest, it gave Caitlin the chance to drop to her knees and be fed. A full moon peeking in and out of the clouds allowed the hunter to find his way through the hills during the hours of darkness. If he had stopped again to camp, she doubted if she could have prevented her caterpillar from taking him. Her new caterpillar was a glutton and far more aggressive than her old one. The young hunter struggled fiercely with his burden for hours on end. Clearly it was worth a great deal to him. Maybe he had a wife and baby to feed. If so, Caitlin wished him well. At the first gray light of dawn, Caitlin spotted men lining a ridge off to her right. She thought the hunter had found his destination, but he veered sharply to the left instead and raced down a long slope. He succeeded only in running into another group lying in ambush at the bottom. They saw her, too, but kept their rifles shouldered. Caitlin approached within earshot of the group, risking her life to satisfy her boundless curiosity. The group surrounded the hunter threateningly, but one member tied a white rag to the barrel of his rifle and approached her waving it over his head. He stopped when he saw her caterpillar stir. He was a gaunt, aging man with a beard. Most men had beards now. “Could we have a word with you?” he said meekly, gesturing to indicate the larger group waiting at the bottom of the shallow ravine. “You’ll shoot me,” Caitlin said. “We need your help, miss. We know your kind. The caterpillar does the killing. You’ll help us if you can.” “I can’t stop it,” Caitlin said. “We know.” - 244 -

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A second man joined the first. He smiled, and Caitlin thought he might be a preacher. Only a preacher would be foolish enough to smile at the monster she was. “My child, we truly need your help.” She decided that one or two could shoot her as easily as five or six. The men on the skyline behind her could have put a bullet in her back at any time. It puzzled her that they didn’t. It vaguely irritated her that they let the opportunity slide. Caitlin followed the old man and the preacher to the gathering. She glanced up sharply when the wind changed direction briefly and singed her nose with a whiff of smoke. Just about all of the smells of civilization had become foul and unbearable. “That’s Osco just over the hill,” the old man said. “I’m mayor Kern.” Caitlin was shocked that she had come so far. She was near Culverton already. The Kingsleys, her father’s family, lived in a small town near Culverton, although Vivian had never given her any details for fear she’d risk a visit. “The National Guard sent a census taker out our way,” Mayor Kern said. “He promised a shipment of food and antibiotics that has not as yet arrived. If we do not receive the supplies we were promised, many people in our town will die.” Caitlin knew nothing about National Guard census takers. She stared at the mayor, waiting for details of what she could do to help. “The National Guard has a regional headquarters just south of Culverton,” he said. “Where am I now?” The surrounding hills gave her no clue. She felt as if she had wandered across half the continent. “We are about twenty miles southwest of Culverton.” She had wandered many miles from home. She studied the position of the sun and fixed in her mind the direction she would have to go to find the National Guard headquarters. - 245 -

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“They would shoot me,” Caitlin said, remembering what Derek had said about the authorities paying for caterpillar hides. Caitlin wondered if the tide had ever turned, if more caterpillars than human beings were being killed now that so many people had died. “They’ll speak with you first,” Mayor Kern assured her. “Your kind are the best couriers they’ve got in these hills.” “Even considering?” Caitlin said doubtfully. “We condemn the insect, not its victims,” Kern said. “Many of our own people were taken early on in the infestation.” Caitlin frowned. “What happened to them?” “We killed them and the abominable insects that had taken their souls. It was what they would have wanted, had they been free to make the choice.” “What do you want me to do?” Caitlin said, trying to keep her mind on track. Mayor Kern took a letter-sized envelope from his back pocket. “These are duplicate census records. Deliver them to Culverton for us. It is a matter of life and death.” Caitlin eyed the envelope. “Are other towns getting help?” “We have been told the National Guard is helping many small communities survive the winter.” The man put the envelope on the snow and moved back. Caitlin stepped forward to retrieve it. “Thank you, child,” the preacher said. Again, he smiled at her. Caitlin had all but forgotten how to smile. She gave the man a brief nod. She had no more questions, so she tucked the envelope in her clothes, turned away, and started walking toward Culverton. “Take the cannibal with you,” Mayor Kern called out, his voice heavy with contempt. Caitlin looked back, startled. - 246 -

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“The cannibal comes from Maston,” Mayor Kern said. “Avoid the Matron who rules there. Circle a bit to the south to avoid those people.” Others steered the young man and his sled toward her with pointed guns. The preacher came as close to her as he dared, speaking in a confidential tone of voice. “The Matron is a tyrant possessed by one of the demonic creatures on your shoulder, a willing tool of the devil himself. If you fail to reach Culverton, if we don’t get help, we will be systematically murdered by her. We will become the game they cannot find in the forest.” Caitlin eyed the sled laden with game. Why would anyone need to be a cannibal? Mayor Kern followed the direction of her gaze. He nodded to another of the group. A man cut the cords that bound the dressed carcasses. Frozen meat spilled into the snow, and the man stepped back to allow Caitlin a closer inspection. She looked closer, needing to assure herself that they were mistaken in their awful accusation. There were only frozen rabbits, a pheasant, and two ducks to inspect. She moved them aside with the toe of her boot to inspect the pale deer carcass beneath. And reeled back in horror. The pale body beneath had been human, a woman, dressed and dismembered like an animal. “Cannibals,” Mayor Kern muttered unhappily. “They have killed our own hunters and raided the homesteads of those who live in the hills.” Caitlin eyed the young hunter staring wide-eyed with fear at the ground. “I don’t want him,” she told the group. “Shoot him.” “It is a long journey,” the mayor said gently. “Your bug will grow hungry along the way. Take this one rather than innocent refugees you may encounter.” They lowered their guns on the young man. He ran for - 247 -

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his sled and rebundled the frozen game. He then harnessed himself and started toward the northeast with his heavy burden in tow, going the same general direction as she herself would be going. Caitlin started to follow. Her caterpillar chattered its dissatisfaction at not being allowed to feed. A few minutes later, remembering her audience, she turned and waved her farewell. No one waved back at her. Caitlin picked up her pace, feeling more alive than she had in days. She was on a mission to save the human race, or at least a small part of it. Rex would appreciate her sacrifice. Perhaps she could even go back and see if Brighton Hollow had census papers to deliver to Culverton. How long would it take for the pain of Connie’s death to go away? Maybe by now he was sorry he had shot at her. Maybe he was wishing she would visit during his long, cold nights alone in bed. Regardless of all that, her life was now of some small value. It was the only way left to her to defy the creature on her shoulder. The young hunter seemed to know where he was and where he wanted to go. At times, he would climb a hill for no apparent reason and proceed again down a meandering valley. She had to slow her pace considerably to accommodate him. A rocky area lay head. He battled his way over gray stone protruding through the snow. He slipped at one point and fell. Forgetting herself, Caitlin went to help. “Get away from me, you fucking bitch!” he shrieked, flecking his beard with white foam. The intensity of his anger stopped Caitlin in her tracks. Wild-eyed with desperation, he climbed to his feet and continued on. He picked up his pace, panting and moaning in his single-minded effort to reach Maston. - 248 -

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Sulking, Caitlin followed close behind. The caterpillar stirred in growing hunger on her shoulder. Secretly, she hoped he would reach Maston before the caterpillar took the young hunter. She wanted to see how the Matron coexisted with ordinary people. Above all else, except for delivering the census papers to Culverton, Caitlin wanted to know how she might coexist with Brighton Hollow in the same manner.

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Forty-two

C

aitlin and the hunter picked up a small pack of wild dogs that hounded them in the early hours of the next day. The caterpillar, Caitlin noticed, reacted not at all to their presence. The young hunter grew fatigued and her hunger began to annoy her, a certain indication that the caterpillar was ready to feed as well. When the hunter veered suddenly into a valley that turned south, she kept an eye in that direction for signs of civilization. Either he would reach Maston by nightfall, or the caterpillar would go in pursuit of the boy. Less than an hour passed before the stirring of the caterpillar warned that they had company. Caitlin looked around and saw men with guns converging from all sides. The hunter threw down his harness and staggered back through the snow to within shouting distance. “You stupid bitch! How in hell do you suppose we nail your overgrown asses? You’re all screwed up in the head, that’s how!” Caitlin had nowhere to run. She had little incentive to - 250 -

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try. She had given up on so much of life, living for no other reason than to avoid the terrible pangs of hunger and to satisfy a curiosity that had grown both intense and bold because of the unbearable monotony of her existence. Having fallen into the hands of murderers and cannibals didn’t particularly bother her. She’d at least meet the mysterious Matron. Why else would so many men be rushing in to take her captive? It would have taken only one of them and a single rifle to kill her. Besides, these were not the sophisticated city people of the caravans who would torture her to death for the sake of a sick video tape. These were just hill people with families to feed. They gestured with the rifles for her to walk toward the offensive odors wafting over a nearby hill. She paused at its crest to look over the small town situated at the junction of two state highways. Maston looked to have been a town of two thousand or so. From what she could see, they were weathering the winter well enough. Horses towed import cars stripped of engines and excess weight. Wood smoke rose from most of the buildings in the center of town as well as much of the outlying residential area. These had to be people who knew their enemy well, people with the stomach and the audacity to prey upon the enemy, in fact. The dismembered carcass on the sled had been a zombie. She had decided that to be the case by its sheer size. If the other small communities in the hills learned to handle themselves as well, a lot of caterpillars and their hosts would be going hungry during the course of the winter, or getting themselves picked off approaching population centers like Maston. Curiosity drove her on. She winded her escort trying to keep pace with her. When she moved ahead of him, he fired a - 251 -

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warning shot into the air, and she paused to let him take the lead. They took her to a dance hall near the center of town and herded her into a smoke-filled lobby crowded with armed guards and spectators, all of whom seemed to know the proper distance needed to avoid being attacked by Caitlin’s trilling caterpillar. When they led her onto the darkened dance floor itself, nobody bothered to follow her in. The vast room had never been so dimly or shabbily lit. Wood fires burned in barbecue pits placed about the perimeter of the hardwood floor. The low ceiling had been stained black by soot and did nothing to help dispel the gloom. At the far end of the floor squatted a makeshift throne consisting of a plywood dais, Christmas decoration, and a richly upholstered captain’s chair taken from a van or a motor home. A woman sat in the chair. Her height, sleek physique, and radiant health warned Caitlin that she was in the presence of another like herself, although she seemed much older. An orange and brown caterpillar rivaling Caitlin’s in size rested upon her shoulders. Its head drew circles in the air as it tasted the telltale chemical breeze brought in by the newcomer. “You followed blindly into our trap,” the Matron said in a rich contralto voice. “I am so disappointed by your apparent lack of intelligence. A stupid girl will make poor company, and I am truly starved for intelligent conversation.” Caitlin feared she had been wandering the woods alone for too long to interact with another human being socially, but she felt herself come alive in the presence of the woman’s belligerence wit. Her caterpillar gripped the collar of her flannel shirt tightly, alert for trouble in these close quarters. “You have no excuses to make for your stupidity?” the Matron said. Caitlin approached as closely as she dared. - 252 -

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“Have you no voice, child? What’s your name?” “I’m Connie Kingsley,” Caitlin said, surprised by the strength of her own voice echoing back to her from the surrounding walls. She wanted to test the woman’s reaction to the Kingsley name, but not reveal her own. “I’m from Brighton Hollow.” The Matron stared at her. “Kingsley. Child, you are advised not to speak that name in the presence of anyone but myself in this town.’ “Oh, okay,” she said meekly, mildly confused, but with no way to ask questions of this mad woman so soon. “My name is Iris Isbek,” the Matron said in a flat tone of voice. “And you’re from Brighton Hollow?” “Yes.” “There was another Kingsley in Brighton Hollow. Did you happen to know Sheriff Biggs and his family?” Caitlin gave a tentative nod, hoping she hadn’t revealed too much. “You knew of a Katrina Kingsley and her child,” Iris said stiffly, her face pale and suddenly shiny with sweat. Caitlin sensed it best to keep a safe distance from Iris’ upset. “I heard about her. She died when I was a baby. I think Sheriff Biggs lived with her sister, Vivian. He’s dead now. They all are.” “And the child?” Caitlin shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.” Iris sighed heavily, profoundly relieved about something Caitlin knew she’d have to let slide for now. “Young lady, the Kingsleys are an abomination in these parts. If I were you, I would keep a very low profile during your stay with us. So, tell me, Connie Kingsley, did you kill my other hunter, or did the coward run away?” “My caterpillar got him,” she said. “Why did you spare Sidney?” - 253 -

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“I was curious about you. I followed him.” Iris Isbek showed even white teeth. “What a darling thing to say. Strangers call me the Matron. Seeing as I have no friends, everybody else calls me the bitch. If you hear anyone in Maston call either one of us a foul name, your caterpillar may feed upon them. But don’t take without asking. It will be my one and only rule for as long as I have you about. Ask before taking.” “You’ll let me visit?” Caitlin said, unable to disguise her eagerness. The Matron seemed surprised. “Why, of course you can visit. You are a welcomed visitor, in fact.” “I’ve never seen anyone with a bug get along with ordinary people,” Caitlin said. “Most just wander the hills.” “Like yourself?” she said with mild sarcasm. “I’m not a zombie. I knew what I was doing coming here, didn’t I?” “You walked into my trap.” “I didn’t care about that.” “Maybe you were just following my hunter to feed your caterpillar.” Caitlin felt like she was playing a game of chess and she had just cornered the Matron’s king. “But I was warned about you. Some people in Osco stopped me and asked me to take some census papers to Culverton.” The woman leaned back in her throne and put a finger to her lip in thought. “Did you see what was on the sled, my dear?” “A dead zombie.” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s kind of disgusting, if you ask me. Are people here really cannibals?” “Some,” she said. “Most are not. A few consider zombies fair game, considering. Tit for tat. That sort of thing.” “They can’t be very nice people,” Caitlin said. “They’ll starve to death otherwise.” - 254 -

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“That wouldn’t be so bad. I’d let myself starve to death rather than help my caterpillar kill people. Except that it’s a very special and terrible hunger.” The Matron chuckled. “Yes, it is at that.” “Wouldn’t you?” The woman blinked in confusion. “Wouldn’t I what?” “Let yourself starve to death in the ordinary way rather than help your caterpillar kill innocent people?” The woman considered the question, and changed the subject. “We’ve certainly had it rough. Circumstances have improved for me. How are things with you, child?” “I get bored,” Caitlin said. “I’d like to know how you get along so well with ordinary people.” “It’s not usually done. I don’t think anyone in this area has applied any ingenuity to the problem. Would you like to see how it works?” Caitlin nodded eagerly, almost feeling like her old self again. The Matron put two fingers to her mouth and let out a shrill whistle. Two armed men came rushing onto the dance floor from the lobby. Either one of the men could have drawn their sidearms and killed both hosts and their caterpillars within mere seconds. It seemed strange that they didn’t. “Ma’am?” “John, my boy! We need a second throne for our princess here.” John grinned. His partner looked horrified. “I think we can throw something together.” The Matron snapped her fingers. “Be quick about it, then.” Caitlin looked to her for an explanation. “My son,” she said. “My one and only begotten.” “Oh, I see.” “And my son’s lover.” - 255 -

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Caitlin turned red with embarrassment. “I had two sons up until those awful things fell from the sky. My other son is a very moral and conservative-minded man. And quite inflexible. I’ve disowned him.” The Matron watched her carefully for her reaction. “I don’t know much about those sorts of things,” Caitlin said, hoping to sound young and naive. “I’m only eighteen, and my father wouldn’t let me go to school.” “I like that answer, Caitlin. I like your forthright honesty. You’re an uneducated girl, but probably not as stupid as people make you out to be.” Caitlin blushed and lowered her gaze. “Do you think we deserved to be murdered by our own families, Connie?” Caitlin shrugged, reluctant to answer truthfully. Then she nodded, knowing she had already given herself away. “I never blamed anyone for hating me.” “They only hate you because so many acquired a bug who didn’t deserve one. Rapists and pedophiles and worse. Sickness crawls from the deepest corners of the human mind when freed of social constraint.” Caitlin must have looked confused. The Matron laughed. “Like Sheriff Biggs. I’ve heard stories about that man. He thought just because he was the law that he stood above it. He abused this authority and felt justified in doing so. Isn’t that true?” “Yes,” Caitlin said boldly. “That’s exactly true.” “How worse would it have been if he had gotten a caterpillar instead of you?” The chill of horror that ran through Caitlin was fathomless. “It would have been awful.” The Matron cocked her head suspiciously. “You probably think that I’m something of a megalomaniac myself.” - 256 -

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Caitlin shrugged, fearing an outright denial would be too transparent. “Maybe just a little.” “Well, a little ego never did anyone any harm. If you had stayed in school, you would have heard of me. I used to be writer. I no longer have much of an audience.” She chuckled. “My caterpillar ate them.” And then she laughed uproariously. “What did you write about?” Caitlin asked politely. “I wrote about the Appalachians. I tried to bring dignity and sophistication to Maston and its surrounding communities.” Caitlin thought it sounded arrogant and boring. “Can you imagine my surprise when the world had the veneer of civilization stripped from its soul in a single night? And my delight, when you consider that I was dying of liver cancer when that little piece of shit inside the shell bit me?” “You don’t look sick now,” Caitlin said. “I’ve never felt better. The cancer went away. I showed Maston how to survive without electricity and gasoline. I helped to identify and destroy the other zombies and their bugs before they so thoughtlessly began to feed on friends and family. I became the Matron, and my upstanding son defied me and tried to kill me.” The Matron reached up and petted her caterpillar. “I turned the tables on this little bastard. I have used it to defend my friends and destroy our enemies.” Caitlin stared at the woman, thinking she was probably crazy after all. The two hunters had talked about a town on the edge of starvation. They had killed off the game around town and had been driven to feeding on zombies, which was still human flesh. The Matron was painting a deceptively pretty picture of life in Maston. “You think life has become hopeless,” the woman said. - 257 -

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“I think we’re all going to die.” “Only the weak will perish.” “Yes, but the strong will still have hungry caterpillars to feed,” Caitlin said. The Matron dismissed the comment with a gesture of disdain. “The weak are legion. Many will die, but so will the caterpillars be whittled down in number. The situation will stabilize, mark my word.” Caitlin wasn’t so sure. She hadn’t seen enough to judge one way or another. “Turn the table on the bugs,” the Matron said. “Use it to defend your friends. They will be grateful. In the end, your friends will be a power to be reckoned with among the ordinary. Your caterpillar will become a god among men, and you will be its priestess.” Caitlin thought the scheme made sense in a crazy sort of way. She didn’t think it would work. “By the way,” the woman said, her eyes narrowing in sudden anger. “Did Sidney or Walter call me any bad names?” Caitlin couldn’t resist the temptation to tattle, just to see how Iris would react. “The older man, the one my caterpillar killed, he called you a bitch.” “I see. Well, he can’t be punished if he’s dead, now can he? But I’m very strict when it comes to showing proper respect to me. If the town doesn’t fear me, it may not always be willing to sacrifice for its own greater welfare.” “I see,” Caitlin said, hoping she sounded sincere. “Perhaps I can afford to be lenient with the boy, considering circumstances. The man you killed was his father.” That amazed Caitlin. “I think he cared more for the sled.” “Well, we have to consider that the sled was worth its weight in gold.” Caitlin thought it best to keep her mouth shut rather than agree to something so bizarre. - 258 -

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“Do you know your Bible, Caitlin? Have you read Revelations?” “My father didn’t believe any of that stuff,” Caitlin said. “I’ve never been to church much.” “I remember hearing about Armageddon when I was a child. I remember something about seals being broken and books being opened, the stars falling from the sky and the sea turning to blood. It’s ironic about the scorpions, don’t you think? Caterpillars sound so innocent. The devil was supposed to be loosened upon the earth for one thousand years. Tell me, Caitlin, do you believe we are agents of God, or of the devil?” “I wouldn’t know one way or the other.” “We’ll discuss it at greater length some other time. I think I hear your throne being assembled outside. Tell me, Connie, are you hungry?” Caitlin was very hungry, and her caterpillar was so restless on her shoulders that its claws had drawn blood on the back of her neck. She nodded reluctantly. “Then it is time to show you how we operate around here,” Iris said, “how Maston remains the peaceful little abode it has become amidst so much corruption and evil. I will show you why I believe our little furry friends are avenging angels in disguise, feeding upon the filth and wickedness of human sin. Does the notion that evil can nourish righteousness sound a bit strange to your ears, child?” Caitlin thought it did. Quite strange. Given the opportunity, she would have excused herself and left the room. Her curiosity had been appeased. She didn’t really want to see or hear any more of the Matron’s mad world. She had accepted a terrible risk to satisfy her curiosity. If she didn’t find a way out soon, the risk to what was left of her sanity was just as great.

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Forty-three

C

aitlin’s throne was a smaller, high-backed car seat mounted on an unpainted wash tub. John and his friend dragged it into onto the dance floor. “A fitting tribute to our little princess,” The Matron said. The two men set the chair alongside the bigger one and left. John gave his mother a knowing smile. “Do we hold court this morning, Mother?” Caitlin’s curiosity deserted her. Whatever the two had up their sleeve, it was bound to be at her expense. “How many do we have?” “Two. Mrs. Zerkov and the city dude. Roy, I think he calls himself.” The Matron eyed Caitlin knowingly. “Bring them both in, one at a time. I’ll see Mrs. Zerkov first, if you please.” When the two men left the room, she stared at Caitlin grimly. “We make best use of a bad situation. Don’t be too quick to condemn us. Your way is more haphazard, is all.”

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Caitlin wanted some forewarning. “What are you going to do?” “Mrs. Zerkov is a troublemaker and a compulsive overeater. She has a shrill voice and a bad temper and I don’t want her around town this winter. She’s bad for morale.” “And the other one?” “Roy is a handsome young drifter I allowed into town because it’s been almost twenty years since I’ve had sex with a man and nobody in town can get it up for me. Don’t you dare breathe a word of that to my son. Unfortunately, for both me and Roy, he was caught trying to trade cocaine for a side arm and bullets. I think he planned to use it against me. He still has a very dangerous switchblade in his possession, and he, too, has a foul temper.” Caitlin said nothing. “And he called me a bitch.” Caitlin was astonished she could be so cavalier about her intentions. “You’re going to let the caterpillars have them?” “I’ve been fed, thank you. You, however, look famished.” Caitlin felt heat rise to her cheeks. She didn’t know if she could go through with murder in this deliberate, cold-blooded fashion. “I know your type, young lady,” the Matron said in a grim tone of voice. “You’re a good girl. You’ve tried to justify your need to kill. You took only bad people, the ones who tried to hurt you, thinking that it was just to summarily murder a simple rapist, or a thief. My guess is, the rationalization stopped working after a time. That’s why you’ve given up on life so easily. That’s why so many of us are easy prey for hunters and our own kind, because we have lost our sense of selfworth. But here in Maston, we have put my caterpillar to good use. We have only taken those who would be a true burden upon our community.” - 261 -

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“You’ll run out of bad people sooner or later,” Caitlin warned. “True,” Iris conceded. “When we run out of the sinful, we’ll feed the caterpillar the useless. We have a large supply of those. But enough of the gloomy pessimism, my dear. Are you hungry, or not?” Caitlin had no way to deny her hunger. The internal conflict between her need and her loathing of what she had become knotted her stomach and brought tears to her eyes. The Matron clapped her hands. John and his friend opened the lobby doors. A small, fat woman was shoved inside, and the doors closed behind her. She waddled in a confused circle, then eyed a familiar face and made a beeline to the Matron. “You have no right, you old witch! You are not a legally elected official! You cannot tell me what I can or cannot do with my own property! As soon as order is restored to this town, I’ll have you and that fag son of yours arrested and put in jail!” She didn’t make it much past that. She got too close in her blind anger and abyssal ignorance. The Matron’s caterpillar struck. Silenced, its victim slowly sank to the floor. “I hope it takes it all,” the Matron said in a worried voice that carried well in the deathly silent. “I do hate gooey messes.” Caitlin kept her eyes averted from the dead woman. She had become skilled at blocking unwanted sights, sounds and thoughts from her mind. In time, the silence passed. The Matron put her caterpillar on a mattress to pee. John and his friend attended the remains of the corpse with brooms and dust pans. The Matron clapped twice. Caitlin closed her eyes, feeling tension gathering beyond her ability to contain it. Again, the lobby doors creaked open and closed. When she heard a faint snicking sound, she opened her eyes to see what it was. The blade gleamed in the dim light. He was slim, dark - 262 -

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and handsome, and he advanced upon the Matron like a primitive warrior, sweeping the blade back and forth with lethal intent. His eyes glared with a deadly rage. He knew that his life would end in this room should his skills fail him. He didn’t seem to lack confidence. The Matron chuckled her amusement. “Try the young one first,” she growled at the man, mocking his ferocity. “Stick the bug, slit her throat, and rape her ass where she falls. Entertain me, Royboy, and I’ll give you a handgun, all the ammo you can carry, and I’ll let you live.” “I want the bug’s carcass, too,” the man growled. “Beggars can’t be choosy, honey bun.” Roy eyed Caitlin. Caitlin had gone as rigid as stone in shock and disbelief. Despite her confidence in her caterpillar, she couldn’t believe the Matron’s deceit, nor had she ever seen a more sinister expression on a man’s face. He turned to face her, and she could see that he had taken the woman at her word. He was going to try to kill her caterpillar. If he succeeded, he would slit her throat just as Iris had ordered. After that, it wouldn’t make much difference what he did. Caitlin rose to her feet. Only on an intellectual plane did she want to die. Deep down, the caterpillar provided too much vitality for her to easily succumb. She sidestepped into the open. Roy threw her ridiculous throne to the floor and closed on her. Caitlin retreated in circles rather than risk being backed into the smoking barbecue pits, or pinned against a wall. “You killed friends of mine, bitch,” he said in an ominous monotone of contempt and anger. “I’m going to make you pay for that.” Roy slashed the knife from side to side. The caterpillar gripped Caitlin’s shoulder fiercely, as tense as spring steel wound up tight and ready to leap. If Roy got close enough to - 263 -

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cut her, the caterpillar would spike his hand, but Roy knew of the danger. He flipped the knife end for end and tossed it at her throat. He had misjudged her youth and her innocence. She was not as inexperienced nor as vulnerable as she looked. Caitlin snatched the blade in midair. She held it out to him. “Try again.” In his shock and his sudden anger, he did as she suggested, lashing out for the handle with lightning quick reflexes. The caterpillar was quicker. Roy looked down at the talon buried in the back of his hand, given a moment to contemplate the black death creeping up his arm. “Well, what the hell,” Roy said with his final sigh, which was more than Caitlin had ever heard anyone say. And then he fell. The caterpillar crawled to the floor to more properly tend the body. Caitlin righted her fallen throne and sat back down before her legs gave out beneath her. “Very impressive,” the Matron said, clearly disappointed by Roy’s performance. “I believe I’ve underestimated you by several degrees of magnitude. Which means that you’re probably more dangerous to me than I anticipated. We may have to cut your visit short.” “I don’t mind,” Caitlin said. “It’s been very interesting. I appreciate your hospitality.” The Matron studied her coldly. “You’ll be going on to Culverton?” “I want to deliver the census report for Osco like I promised.” “It’s snowing again, my dear. The hills may not be passable for much longer. If you go down the highway from here to the valley, which would be your easiest route, you’ll encounter a man along the way. He has stolen women and - 264 -

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children from Maston. I know for a fact that he will try to stop you.” “Does he have a caterpillar?” “No, but he is very dangerous regardless. When I send hunters out to kill him, they don’t come back. I would like him dead. Please kill him for me.” Caitlin did not intend to run errands for the Matron, nor did she want to openly defy the woman. She remained silent. “Keep in mind that I do not normally allow any competition at all to leave Maston alive. If you doubt me, look more carefully at the walls that surround you.” Caitlin peered through the gloom. When she saw them, the temperature in the dance hall dropped a thousand degrees. Caterpillar furs. Dozens lined the perimeter of the room. Of all the green meteorites that had fallen in the surrounding hills, and all the caterpillars that had found hosts, most had wound up here in this room, their skins stretched and tacked on crude boards and hung on the soot-stained walls. “You must promise to kill this man for me. You cannot refuse. If the snow continues, the hills will be impassable, and you will need to pass by this way again. If you fail me, I will order my best marksman to track you down and shoot the caterpillar from your shoulders.” “Yes, ma’am,” she said. The Matron assumed she’d be returning to Brighton Hollow, maybe to emulate her technique of domination among ordinary people, but Caitlin had learned nothing here but the incredible depths of madness to which the human mind could sink. She’d not be returning to Brighton Hollow. She’d deliver the census papers and then move on toward the east, waiting for the end of the world to engulf her in places she had always yearned to visit. She had always wanted to see skyscrapers. “If I receive word of his death, I will feed your caterpillar - 265 -

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well enough to sustain it for the final leg of your journey home. Will you do it for me?” “I’ll do it,” Caitlin said. She thought she sounded perfectly sincere. If Iris’ mystery man accosted her, she would have no choice regardless. The Matron glowered at her. “I think I may need proof of his death. I wish for you to bring me his head.” Caitlin almost burst out laughing. Only by a hair’s breadth did she contain herself. Her caterpillar finished feeding and crawled into her lap. She lay her head back on her makeshift throne so that the insect could find her carotid artery and feed her in turn. Along with warm pleasure rushing through her veins, she felt a tendril of icy horror as well. It would be like this everywhere. The world had been driven mad. The bleached bones of humanity would cover the face of the Earth and in the end be joined by the hideous orange and brown hides of the caterpillars.

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Forty-four

C

aitlin lost track of time plodding through the snow. Reality took on dreamlike overtones. Had she lingered inside the dark and smelly dance hall for hours, or for entire days on end? How long ago had it been? She had been with the Matron long enough for a foot of snow to fall, and it was only early October. She walked for the balance of a day, through the night, and most of the hours of the day that followed. She was uncertain of her location, but she knew that the highway led into a valley, and that Culverton lay within the valley, bisected by a river. The temperature dropped into the teens, but that in itself bothered neither herself nor the caterpillar. It was the mindless fugues that concerned her. The man the Matron wanted dead lived nearby, and the Matron had assured her that he would kill her, given the opportunity. Faced with the need to keep alert, her mind kept shutting down on her. Brief moments of startled alertness were followed again and again by countless - 267 -

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hours of trudging through the relentless snow in a dreamlike state of consciousness. The hypnotic chugging of a distant motor made it worse, like a distant metronome lulling her asleep. She dimly wondered what it could be. It got louder as she walked. He finally made his appearance. She almost ran into him before she noticed his presence. He stood in the middle of the road and blocked her way, a tall man of about fifty with dirty blonde hair. Most men had grown beards, but this man was clean-shaven. Despite his age, he looked to be in good health. “Where are you going?” he said. She showed him the folded paper tucked in her clothing. “Osco says this has to get to the National Guard in Culverton.” “Have you passed through Maston?” “I’ve met the Matron. She said you would try to kill me.” “It’s nice of you to want to help Osco. They’re good people.” She moved closer, wondering if he’d be so foolish as to allow her to get close enough for the caterpillar to strike. “What are you going to do after Culverton?” he asked. “I think I’ll go back home. There’s a man there who’s madly in love with me.” He smiled. “Is he really?” “He’s a little bit afraid of me,” Caitlin admitted. “But I’m prettier than his girlfriend was. My caterpillar got her accidentally. I’m all he has left.” “How are you going to make it home in all this snow?” Caitlin scanned surrounding hills. They looked so empty and forbidding. “You’ll go hungry in this cold,” he said. She didn’t need to be told how hopeless it had all become. She stepped closer still, wondering what he was - 268 -

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planning to do with his own life now that civilization was gone. id he really think he’d escape the caterpillars in the end? The caterpillar struck from Caitlin’s shoulder. The lash of the gray tongue caught him in the arm he brought up to shield his face. The talon struck between wrist and elbow. And rebounded. He laughed. While he was laughing, he reached out and shoved her hard in one shoulder. Caught off guard, Caitlin spun about in a half circle, giving the man time to whip out a fish net and throw it over the insect on her back. With one quick tug, the familiar weight on her shoulders was gone. Caitlin gave a cry of alarm and made a grab for the net. The man held out a hand to stop her. Not a knife. Not a gun. Just his hand. “Easy does it. I’m not going to hurt your caterpillar. Here, you carry it. Just don’t let it out of the bag.” He handed her the net. Caitlin ignored her squirming caterpillar for the moment. he looked down with amazement at the hand on her arm. For the first time in ages, someone had reached out and touched her. “But it bit you!” Caitlin cried. “I saw it!” Grinning, he opened his coat. Beneath it, he wore a fine, chain-link mesh. “It’s a shark suit,” he said. “A what?” He laughed, not at her, merely amused by her confusion. “Woven stainless steel wire. It’s protection for scuba divers. It keeps shark teeth from penetrating when they attack. The caterpillars can’t bite through it either.” He tugged impatiently on her arm. “I’ve got a house in the trees. Visit with me for awhile. Tell me how my mother and queer brother John are doing these days.” Caitlin followed, watching her caterpillar squirm in the net. She felt naked without the creature on her shoulders, but free as well of its domination, at least for the moment. - 269 -

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“Are you okay?” he said, concerned for her obvious confusion. “Did you really try to kill her?” “My Mother? I have friends who thought it a good idea. She’s been a tyrant in these parts all her life. The bug has less to do with it than you might imagine.” Caitlin studied the silvery mesh showing through the man’s shirt. If Rex Logan had such a shirt, he would have no fear of being close to her. “It belonged to a friend,” the man explained. “He showed me some of his scuba diving equipment once. I remembered this particular item when the caterpillars made their appearance. I managed to retrieve it before I ran across my first zombie and his bug. It was a close call.” “Why didn’t your friend use it?” Caitlin said. “I suppose he was killed before he realized what we were up against.” Caitlin was impressed. He smiled again and gestured with a quick nod of his head. “My name is Frank, by the way. What’s yours?” His name electrified her. Frank. But her father had been Frank Kingsley. This was Iris Isbek’s son, Frank Isbek, maybe a cousin of her dead mother. “My name is Connie Biggs,” she said, remembering what the Matron had said about the unpopularity of the Kingsley name. “Connie. Nice to meet you.” Caitlin went with him willingly. If he had been planning to kill her, he could have done so already. He led the way to a log cabin in the woods worth at least a million dollars, a veritable mansion standing two stories high with a peaked roof and funny-shaped windows and skylights. - 270 -

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And it had lights. The chugging sound was a generator. The sound came from shed behind the house. “Want to come inside?” Caitlin wanted to very badly. “It’s probably too hot for me.” “I’ll crack a window in the den.” She saw people moving inside. “Who are they?” “Refugees. Not from the caterpillars. From my mother. She likes controlling men. She has no use for their wives and daughters. She doesn’t like the competition.” “She’s not a very nice lady.” He burst into laughter, startling both herself and her netted caterpillar. She had to smile herself. “I guess that is funny.” “Young woman, I saw a bumper sticker once that said, ‘God is coming and She is pissed.’ I don’t think anyone’s seriously considered the notion that the devil, too, is a woman.” Caitlin felt like an intruder approaching the house. She didn’t quite trust its owner. She sensed he was being nice for a reason. He held the door open for her. It was insufferably hot inside, with fires burning in fireplaces in every room. Caitlin saw two women working in the kitchen. She heard at least one other person moving upstairs where a baby was crying. A little girl sat cross-legged on the living room floor, reading a book. They all glanced at her as she entered the house. They wrinkled their noses at the netted caterpillar, and then went about their business. “Let’s go to the den,” Frank said. The den was equally hot, but quickly cooled when he opened some windows. In the dim light, Caitlin saw a mounted caterpillar skin hanging on the wall. “It belonged to a drifter like yourself. She tried to kill me during the night.” - 271 -

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“Maybe she was hungry,” Caitlin said, but without sympathy for the dead girl. “My mother sent her down to kill me like she did with you. It’s a game we play. She sends them down to kill me. I try to send them back right at her whenever I can. She’s hoping I’ll get my fingers burnt playing with matches.” “Don’t you kill them all?” Caitlin said, wondering if she hadn’t walked into a trap after all. “I’ve never killed any of them. Except for the one I was forced to send on her way without her bug. I guess I killed her indirectly, but only in self defense. The others enjoyed their visit and went on their way. One or two returned to Maston as a favor to me, and to the women and children here and in town. Obviously, they failed.” “Why do you bother?” Caitlin wanted to know. “Isn’t it dangerous having strangers around, especially those like me?” “Strangers like you keep the woods cleared of drifters. The drifters are more dangerous.” “How did you know I was coming?” “Motion detectors equipped with short range FM transmitters. I’m using rechargeable batteries. I figure by the time the generator runs out of fuel, there will be a lot fewer transients out and about and I won’t need the security.” Caitlin looked over the room. The furniture was like the house itself, make of plain, varnished wood of different varieties. “Are you married to one of those girls?” she asked nonchalantly, although her curiosity was intense. He smiled. “I’m married to all of them.” Caitlin was startled by the confession. “You’re not supposed to have more than one wife.” “I’m just kidding, not that it matters a whole lot anymore. One is a friend. The other was the wife of a friend. The girl upstairs with the baby is just someone that happened by. I’ll admit the baby’s mine. It takes more than one - 272 -

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woman to run a household without modern conveniences. Rules have changed.” “I don’t think they like me,” Caitlin said. He smiled. “I don’t think they want to see me spread me too thin, but they’re all friends to one another. There’s room for one or two more.” “I can’t stay,” Caitlin said. She thought about what it would be like to be Rex Logan’s wife and bear his children in a house like this. The fantasy was so poignant and unlikely that it hurt. “Stay for the night,” he said. “Why? So that you can talk me into going back to kill your mother for you? I don’t think I can, you know. Or do you just want to take advantage of me?” “We’ll talk about it. You’ll be the boss in any case. The girls are drawing some water for a bath. If I keep a window cracked, the room will stay cool enough for you and warm enough for me.” She hadn’t had a bath in weeks. She stood hugging herself, shaking, and looking out a window at the cold morning, thinking that she wasn’t even human anymore if she preferred that to human company. “I can’t make you,” he said. “You can take your bug and leave if you want.” “I don’t trust you. Why are you being so nice to me?” He sat in a nearby chair. “Because you are so beautiful. Because I take pity on you, and I’m fascinated by the contrast between good and evil in one package.” “I don’t want you to feel pity for me,” Caitlin said. “Allow me my fascination, then. It’s not going to last much longer, you know. Hardly anyone comes out this way anymore.” “You seem to be doing okay for yourself.” “If things don’t get too much worse, we’ll survive.” - 273 -

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She glanced at her struggling caterpillar in the net, a living, breathing nightmare destroying the world. How could things possibly get any better? He raised an eyebrow. “Well?” “Okay. I guess.” “Hang your bug up on that hook over the mantle. Nobody here will harm it.” Caitlin did as she was told, and then followed him through the rooms of warm wood and crystal chandeliers. The women and children in the house were docile creatures who ducked around corners to watch her pass. “I’ll leave you here,” he said, standing aside at the door to the bathroom. “I’ll be in the den when you’re finished. Take your time.” The bathroom was all wood and white enamel with a high window showing the gray sky. The bathtub was already filled with soapy water hot to her touch, probably cool to theirs. She then stripped and stepped naked into the tub and filled it so completely with her overgrown body that some of the water splashed onto the floor. Suds crackled in her ears. She closed her eyes and sighed, wondering for how long they would let her soak in the warm water. Hours seemed to pass. A woman came into the room and nodded to her clothes. “Would you like us to wash those?” Caitlin didn’t want to be without dry clothes. “They’re okay.” The woman stared at the black gown draped across the toilet with its jewels glittering in the bright light. “It’s all torn,” Caitlin said. “I don’t think it fits me anymore.” “Can I see it?” Caitlin nodded and watched anxiously as the woman held it up to the light. - 274 -

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“It’s beautiful.” “A friend gave it to me.” “Do you want me to sew up some of these tears? I can try to let the seams out a little. You can wear it for Frank.” “Would you want me to do that?” Caitlin said in confusion. The woman glanced at her without expression. “You are very beautiful. Frank will be nice as pie to you. Do you know why?” Caitlin had already sensed that he intended to take advantage of her in some devious way. She shook her head, hoping for a more comprehensive explanation. “He will want you to kill his mother for him.” “He mentioned that.” “Will you do it for us?” The woman said it a little too eagerly. “For you, too?” The woman nodded with grim enthusiasm. “She killed my father and my brothers. She’s hurt so many people. You will be our best friend ever.” “I don’t know if I can,” Caitlin confessed. “Will you at least try? The children are so scared.” Caitlin gave her a tentative nod, fearing the woman would become angry or upset if she refused outright. Like with the Matron, she could always change her plans later, out in the cold and night where it hardly made any difference who lived and who died. The woman left with a vague smile. “I’ll let you know when I have this finished.” Caitlin could not have drifted to sleep. Gobs of time simply vanished. An hour or two, maybe. The woman was back and chattering animatedly, showing Caitlin what she had done with the dress. Caitlin dried herself off and found that it fit. Sparkling and shimmering, she made her way to the den - 275 -

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and found Frank seated before the cooling embers in the fireplace. “Wow.” He smiled and rose to his feet. Caitlin kept her distance. “Are you still afraid of us?” he said. Even the caterpillar was quiet. “No, I don’t think so.” “Just distrustful. And we ask a lot of you.” Caitlin nodded reluctantly. He reached for her hand. Caitlin let him have it. Her heart raced wildly. He caressed the back of her hand and boldly looked her over from head to foot. “Your dress is very beautiful.” “A friend gave it to me.” He ran his hand up her arm. “You’re very beautiful, too.” Caitlin closed her eyes and trembled. “It’s the way you live,” he said. “You’ve adapted to the isolation, but we’re social animals. The caterpillars deprive us of that, and we suffer.” He withdrew his hand. Caitlin stood with her eyes closed, waiting for him to touch her again, wanting him to touch her again. When he caressed the side of her face, she shied from him despite herself. “Do you have someone, Connie?” Connie. The name irritated her. She should have chosen something else. She glanced at him, knowing what he was offering to her, suspecting it was probably something of a hobby, giving refuge to lonely girls, taking advantage of them, and then turning them loose into the cold. He was probably very good at it. “I have a boyfriend,” she said. He withdrew his hand. She stared at it longingly. “We’ve never done anything,” she confessed. “We will when I go back to him. I’m all he has left now.” “I see. You are saving yourself for him.” - 276 -

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If she agreed, he would not touch her again. If she disagreed, she would return to Rex no longer a virgin. “I know what you are feeling, Connie. It was the same with the others. You’re probably thinking that I took advantage of them, and that I’m trying to take advantage of you. I do appreciate your incredible beauty. The caterpillar has given that to you, but it has isolated you from your own kind. Most of what you are feeling right now is the simple child’s need for physical contact and comfort. It needn’t go any further than this. If it does, it will be what you want and I’d appreciate. It’s a way for you to stay human, and the only thing I can offer that will help.” He put her hand on the side of her face again, and she leaned against it in appreciation. He guided her down to a bear rug. She lay back, oblivious to anything but the sensation of his hands on her body, and finally the simple desire to embrace and to hold him quietly, like a little girl in the arms of her father. “Will you be returning this way when you deliver your paper to Culverton?” he asked in the dim light. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. She couldn’t think clearly at all, but she nodded, knowing the answer he wanted to hear. “Connie, my mother was five and half feet tall and weighed close to three hundred pounds. She had diabetes, emphysema from smoking too much, and she was dying of cancer. I don’t want her dead because I hate her. I want her dead because she’s always been a travesty of a human being and she’s dragging Maston down to barbarism. It’s not something the caterpillar did to her. The caterpillar only made it worse. “Only you have the power to save what’s left of Maston. You may be the last to pass this way, and I could - 277 -

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never get close enough to do it myself. Connie, decent people are being hurt.” When he fell silent, it was easy to pretend that it was Rex in her arms. She knew she shouldn’t let it happen. She should save herself for Rex, except she knew in the heat of the moment she would never make it back to Brighton Hollow. Rex would continue to shun her even if she did. The world she had wanted, the one she had dreamed about, was dead. When this moment ended, she would be returned to the cold outdoors. She didn’t want to go without accepting everything it had to offer her, everything Frank had to offer that would remind her of her humanity in these, the last days of her life. Only when she stirred against him with a growing passion of her own did he reach down for the hem of her gown and draw it over her head. She then drew him to him fiercely. She melted in his arms and slowly went to pieces when he responded in kind. He made love to her with quiet passion, and it was everything Caitlin had ever hoped it would be, and far more. She turned away and cried softly afterward, thinking with bittersweet resentment that this was the thing Rex had shared with Connie, but never with her. Frank, too, became strangely quiet. He stayed with her, comforting her, and she sensed that he, too, had been touched. “I’d never knowingly hurt you, child.” She shook her head frantically. “No, it was wonderful.” She looked into his eyes. “I’ll always remember you.” “It never lasts,” he said. “Not for most of us. We only get one crack at happiness. If we lose it, it can never replace it. But even the end, the world can’t take the memory of its beauty away from you.” She nodded absently, distracted by the thought that she - 278 -

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had never had the chance to live long enough to experience this kind of happiness or its memories. “I had a wife once. You remind me of her when we were kids. You look so much like her that you frightened me at first, but that was ages ago. Ages long gone.” Caitlin felt a tear fall for his pain. She would never know pain of that magnitude. She couldn’t lose what she had never had. “The only woman I really want is almost twenty years gone. I can reach across a few feet of space for you, but I have no way to reach back through time for her.” “What happened?” she asked, fascinated by the details of another life so far away from her own. He refused to answer for a time. “Lies. Deceit. Betrayal,” he said. “My mother had an affair with a Kingsley. It started troubles I don’t really want to talk about.” Sound of the name startled her, but in all probability had nothing to do with her past. She let the comment slide. They embraced, sharing their bitterness for life’s injustice and spent their passion during the balance of the night, until the hunger disturbed the peacefulness Frank’s body had left in its wake. She rose just before dawn and looked up at the restless caterpillar squirming in the net. “My caterpillar is hungry.” “If she offered you a reward for killing me, go back and take whatever she’s willing to give. Tell her you killed me.” Caitlin shuddered. “She wanted me to bring back your head.” He chuckled. “Then you do understand how it is with her.” She stared out the window at the snow and the wind, indecisive, but eager now to be on her way. Her caterpillar chattered irritably. It was time to go. She left Frank where he lay. She unhooked the - 279 -

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caterpillar in its net and went naked in search of her clothes. They were laid out dry and warm in front of the fireplace in the living room of the dark house. Everybody else was upstairs sleeping. She dressed and put on her boots, leaving the gown behind for the girl who had repaired it for her. She opened the front door to see what the new day was like. he cold and the biting wind sucked the air from her lungs. Clouds hung low in a leaden sky. Frank joined her at her side. “I know you have to go. I’d rather you stay, if you could. I know you can’t.” She turned and gazed at him. Curiosity had gnawed at her throughout the night. She hadn’t thought to ask Iris Isbek. She would not have dared. Now would be her last chance to find out. “I heard that a man named Frank Kingsley lives around here,” she said, hoping he couldn’t hear the tension in her voice. “Do you know him?” His expression seemed to go lax. “Frank Kingsley.” She dipped her head thinking she had angered him. “I heard about how the Kingsleys and the Isbeks fought so terribly. I guess he wouldn’t have been a friend of yours.” He laughed, except the laugh was grim and strained. “You think I’m an Isbek.” She looked up, her nerves jangled by shock. “Pardon?” “You’re not from around here,” he said. She shook her head adamantly. “No. I come from Brighton Hollow.” His eyes flew wide. “Brighton Hollow. My God.” Her voice came out a whisper laden with fear. More than fear. Terror. “I was just wondering,” she whispered. “Why?” he asked abruptly, almost panicky. “Why were you wondering?” Her mouth hung open. Why would she be asking about a - 280 -

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man named Frank Kingsley? There could only be one reason. “There was a girl in town,” she said. “Caitlin?” he said in sudden eagerness. “Was her name Caitlin?” He advanced on her, and she stumbled back, out the door and into the frigid cold. The wind stung her face, and the took the breath from her lungs. “But she said you were her son!” she cried, turning the memory over and over in her mind, certain of its accuracy. This man was Iris Isbek’s son! Isbek! “Do you know of a Katrina Kingsley and her daughter Caitlin?” he said, filled with agitation and an almost desperate impatience. “She’s with Rex Logan,” Caitlin said quickly, because she saw a glimmer of horrified suspicion in his eyes. “They were together when I left Brighton Hollow. They love each other very much. Rex would never let anything happen to her. Never.” He reached out and grabbed her arms. “Katrina?” Tears froze as they emerged from her eyes. A sob erupted from her, and she could not say it. She only shook her head and watched him collapse from within. “But what happened?” she cried, and then pushed away herself, not really wanting to know. Not daring to know. He stared at her in abject amazement. “What happened?” she said again, risking that her desperation might betray her. “My mother happened,” Frank said. “My fucking mother screwing around on the side, getting herself pregnant by a Kingsley, then driving him away before I ever got the chance to know my own father. No big deal, right? Except she never told me until after Katrina and I ran away to get married! We come back with Caitlin, and then the fucking bitch tells me!” Caught in the throes of horror, Caitlin simply did not understand. - 281 -

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“Connie.” He cocked his head. “Is that your name? Connie Biggs? That would make you Caitlin’s stepsister, I guess.” She nodded frantically. “We were both adopted. Leon wasn’t our real father. I never lived with him all the time. I didn’t know Caitlin really well. She threw smoke in his face, deceiving him until he sighed hard and slowly relaxed. “My God, the coincidence. No wonder you were curious.” Caitlin nodded frantically. “Yes, I was asking for Caitlin.” Frank hugged himself against the lethal cold, but made no effort to step back into the warmth of the house. “It turned out that Katrina and I were half brother and sister. We had the same father. We sure as hell never had any way of knowing until it was too late. It devastated Katrina. She was never the same after that. Don’t ever tell Caitlin. Make sure she never knows.” Caitlin dropped to her knees and sat in the snow. She forced what she intended as an innocent smile that must have looked awful. He knelt before her. “Come back inside. Please. We need to talk.” She formed the words with her lips. “No.” “You must understand the way it was,” he went on. “The humiliation was more than our families could bear. I don’t think they thought we had a right to live together as man and wife, or for Katrina to be a mother to my child. She left with a half sister. You know Vivian, of course.” Caitlin nodded quickly with a twisted smile. He helped her to her feet. “She was better off with Leon Biggs and Vivian. I saw the way they were living. What more could I offer her?” Caitlin backed away from the man, her guts a mass of unbearable pain. - 282 -

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“It’s too late anyhow, isn’t it? Is she dead? My daughter?” Caitlin shook her head frantically. “No, she’s very much alive, Mr. Kingsley. Really.” “Forget about Iris,” he said after a moment of thought. “Don’t risk it. Go back and do what you can to protect Caitlin. Please don’t bring her here. Don’t tell her about me. She’d never understand.” She would, Caitlin wanted to say. She would understand. “Stick to the highways,” he called out to her as she turned and crept away. He pointed between the trees. “You can save a few miles cutting the woods in that direction. It’ll be too treacherous when the snow gets deep.” She nodded without looking back. “Connie?” She paused. “Your name is Connie, isn’t it? Connie Biggs?” She looked around and showed him the mask of a smile. He did not try to stop her. She trudged through the snow to the highway, and then paused to empty the net and put the caterpillar on her shoulder where it belonged. She looked back before the house passed from her view. One of the children waved back at her from a lighted upstairs window, maybe even her stepsister. She stared at the face in the window until its mother yanked the girl from sight, and then she continued on her way with a dangerous and unstoppable rage beginning to mount inside her. Halfway on her way back to Maston, she began to scream. Her scream echoed through the hills until her voice failed her, and then panic exploded inside her, and the caterpillar itself screamed in confusion and irritation.

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Forty-five

C

aitlin picked trash on the outskirts of Maston, selecting a plastic garbage bag and dropping in a frozen head of rotting cabbage. She then walked boldly to the guard positions and held out her garbage bag to let them decide for themselves who she was and what to do with her. Men put rifles to their shoulders and drew a bead on her. One man came down the hill to interrogate her. “Put it down,” the guard ordered. “I want to see for myself.” It had been worth a try. Iris Isbek would have left orders with the guards not to let her pass without proof of Frank’s death. The guard opened the bag. He studied its content for a time, glanced at her, and a slow smile appeared on his lips. “Okay, miss. Have it your way.” Slowly, he stepped away and gestured impatiently. “Go for it,” he said gently. Caitlin picked up the bag and continued on. - 284 -

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Leon had told her once that the victims of a fatal gunshot wound never hear the gunshot itself. Death travels faster than the speed of sound. She suspected word of her deception preceded her to account for the crowd gathered around the old ballroom when she arrived, and the fact that they allowed her to live, if only out of sheer curiosity. They escorted her into the dimly lit dance floor, and then closed the door behind her. She waited out the moment it took for her eyes to adjust to the gloom and then saw that her throne had been removed. Only one remained, and the Matron sat upon it. “Connie, my dear, I didn’t expect you back so soon. Have you brought me what I wanted?” Caitlin tossed the garbage bag to the floor between them. It struck the floor with a satisfying thud. Iris Isbek’s expression was one of alarm. “Is it true? Is Frank’s head in there?” She pointed with a shaking hand to one of two guards standing in the shadows to either side of the door. “You. Look and tell me. Is Frank’s head in there?” The guard approached reluctantly. Wrought with tension, he peeked inside the bag. He seemed surprised by what he saw, but looked up with a straight face and backed slowly away without answering. The Matron let out a cry of dismay. Another cry resonated with it. Caitlin hadn’t see John and his lover standing a bit further back in the shadows. John rushed to his mother’s side looking distraught. She grasped his arm. “Be brave,” she murmured. “You know it had to be done.” John shook his head in denial, his eyes wide with horror. The Matron stood, easily the tallest person in the room, roughly seven stocky feet in height and six inches taller than Caitlin. She stepped off her throne and drew closer to Caitlin, ignoring the bag at her feet. “How did you do it, my dear?” “When he was sleeping,” Caitlin said. “He called me a freak and a monster. His own mother.” - 285 -

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“But that’s what we are,” Caitlin replied politely. Her eyes widened. She gestured curtly. “Everybody leave!” The guards fled. Only John and his friend remained behind. “Do you wish to remain in Maston and rule at my side as a freak and a monster?” the woman said testily. “I’ll leave as soon as I feed my caterpillar.” The Matron stared down at the bag. “Aren’t you going to look?” Caitlin said. “You won’t know whether you have been tricked or not until you see for yourself.” “Child, you wouldn’t dare,” she murmured in cold anger. “Mother, something’s wrong.” John’s voice quavered with fear. “She could never kill Frank so easy.” “I know, dear. Please shut your mouth.” John edged protectively closer. “But Mother...” The Matron’s caterpillar stirred on her shoulder. She swung an arm at her son, driving him back. “Keep back, you fool! Do you want to get yourself killed?” John’s friend tugged on his arm, pulling him away. Iris refocused her attention on Caitlin. “Nobody would dare toy with me. You think I lack the courage to look at my own son’s severed head.” She reached down and grabbed a fistful of the plastic bag and lifted it into the air, dumping its contents to the floor. Caitlin watched Iris’ face for a reaction. The Matron showed no reaction at all. “Then he won,” she said. “He sent you back here to kill me.” “No,” Caitlin said. “I didn’t need to be told what I had to do.” The Matron studied her face. “Why?” Caitlin blinked back a tear or two, nothing that would - 286 -

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interfere with the cold rage inside her. “I lied about my name. You’re my grandmother. You sent me to kill my father.” The Matron took a cautious step back. “What?” “My name isn’t Connie.” The truth dawned on Iris without further prompting. “Caitlin! You’re Frank’s daughter!” John’s cried out, clasping the sides of his head with both hands. Iris grew rigid with tension. “You’re Caitlin. I should have guessed. Maybe I did, deep down. Did you tell him?” Caitlin shook her head. Iris raised a defiant eyebrow. “I’m going to tell him.” “You won’t have the chance,” Caitlin said, her tone of voice leaden with determination. “You’re going to die.” The Matron studied her, but chuckled sadistically. “Such anger. You must have slept with him. He’s just like his father, you know, terribly promiscuous.” “What does it matter?” Caitlin said very softly. “We’re just freaks and monsters and we’re all going to die anyhow. It’s a bad dream, and we’re never going to wake up from it.” Caitlin watched the Matron inch forward, knowing the woman’s larger caterpillar had the longer reach. “They all betrayed you,” she added, knowing she stood a better chance of survival if she could distract the woman with anger. Iris paused and looked sullen. “A hundred men with guns let me through to you knowing I was delivering a rotting head of cabbage. They’re all waiting outside to hear of your death. They’ll cheer when I walk out of here alive. They’ll laugh at the way you died and call you a stupid bitch. They’ll walk on your bones, grind them into the ground with their boots, and the last caterpillar hide on your dirty walls is going to be your own.” The Matron rose tall, livid with mounting rage. “Mother,” John called out in warning. - 287 -

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“Shut up!” “Is it true, mother? Is she Frank’s kid?” “Back, you fool!” John’s friend whimpered and pulled hard on John’s arm. Iris’ caterpillar turned and twisted, responding to her growing agitation. “Katrina’s baby!” John cried out. “Mother, it’s little Caitlin!” With a low growl, Iris lunged at her. Caitlin reached up and grabbed her caterpillar by the fur and threw it into the face of the Matron. Iris Isbek’s own caterpillar lashed out at her, but she was free by that time to bat the gray tongue aside with the back of her hand. John ran shrieking to his mother’s aid. Iris’ caterpillar writhing at their feet lashed out and John lived for only fractions of a second longer than his mother. John’s friend pulled a knife from a sheath at his side and rushed Caitlin without hesitation. Caitlin knocked the blade from his hand and shoved him back violently. He stumbled back into Iris’ deflating body, and then arched over backward with his mouth thrown wide, spiked in the back by one of the bugs. Caitlin couldn’t see which. Caitlin watched the caterpillars until they finished, two insects, one without a host, feeding upon three corpses. First one and then the other finished, expelled excess water, and undulated toward her, one seeking refuge, the other mindlessly set on killing her. Caitlin picked up the fallen knife and tossed it spinning into the face of the larger caterpillar. The blade itself missed, but the blunt handle caved in the face of the insect and sent it curling up in writhing agony. The second caterpillar advanced on her. She couldn’t be one hundred percent certain she had killed the right one. She closed her eyes, curious rather than fearful. How much pain - 288 -

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would there be? How much suffering had she inflicted upon her countless victims? The caterpillar crawled up her body and perched itself on her shoulder. She then turned away in satisfaction and pushed through the doors into the lobby, expecting a hail of bullets to greet her. Except for a guard or two lingering in the dark corners, the lobby was empty, and the two made no effort to stop her. The town was, however, waiting outside, a horde of ghosts watching in utter silence as she traced her own footsteps back to the highway. Hours later, she passed the spot where her father had blocked her way. The wind had covered over his boot prints and only her memory of him remained, still in the process of burning itself into the depths of her soul. She sobbed heartbroken for two hours before moving on into the blinding field of snow, drained now of emotion and any will to live. She set a new course for herself. Her caterpillar had been fed. he had a place to go and Osco’s census papers tucked away in her back pocket, a purpose to life. She waded her way through the deep snow knowing that somewhere ahead lay a valley, a frozen river, and a city of one hundred thousand human beings who would have had the resources to build a fortress against her kind. It did not matter that her kind and the bugs would starve to death soon, or destroy one another among the hills. It was only important that ordinary people come out of hiding when it was over to reclaim a world rightfully theirs.

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Forty-six

S

he moved in a void of consciousness like a formless dream. The uniform whiteness of the wilderness would have swallowed her alive had it not been for the gentle grade leading ever downward along the winding highway. Even with her eyes closed, she could sense the slope and feel the smooth surface of the road beneath the snow. Within a span of two days, the temperatures beneath a cloudy sky warmed to near melting. And then a heavy, wet snow fell, forcing her to sit against the sheltered side of an oak to wait out the storm. Another drop in temperature followed. By morning, Caitlin was buried in an ice-encrusted hollow melted out by her own body heat. She broke free to a clear blue sky and a world covered in rounded mounds of sparkling snow. Birds flitted about iceencrusted trees standing against the sun. Deer tracks crisscrossed the snow where it had blown shallow across the crest

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of hills. The faint chattering of animal life sounded from beneath the snow drifts. The silent world had been cleansed. If the caterpillars killed every human being in the world, a great abundance of life would remain behind to mourn their passing, or more likely to cheer humanity’s demise. They were too stupid to do either, Caitlin decided. Regardless, they were better off living and dying free of the curse of conscious self-awareness. Life was better lived out like a dream, without thought of beginnings and endings. She made her way back to the highway and began to methodically push her way through the even deeper snow. Another day passed and her hunger began to warn of the need to find suitable prey. Failure would doom her to the inhuman torment Derek and his road gang had intended to inflict upon her, although that would happen sooner or later regardless. She shoved the awful thought from her mind. Culverton lay ahead somewhere near. She would be of value there. She tried to avoid thinking about the fate of those unfortunate enough to lie in the path of her hunger. There would be predatory transients from the east coast lurking about Culverton, preying upon ordinary people to satisfy the viler hungers of monsters almost as bad as the caterpillars. She would take those, she told herself, and not the innocents who meant harm to no one. Sometime in the early afternoon hours of the day, she stopped without knowing why. Struggling back from the depths of a mind gone blank, she finally noticed fresh footprints in the snow not of her own making. Even as she watched, a brisk breeze filled them in. Someone had crossed her path not more than a few minutes earlier. They had seen her coming and had hidden among the trees lining the roadside. Despite the risk of - 291 -

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blundering into a hunter with a loaded rifle, she turned and trudged toward their source. She would find prey, or die trying. A few hundred feet into a dense stand of trees, the footprints led to a body of a woman dressed in torn, bloodied clothing, lying across a fallen tree. Fearing that she had stumbled across the scene of an injured innocent, she surged forward with a cry of dismay. The size of the fallen woman forewarned her of danger an instant before the caterpillar dropped from overhead. Its long gray tongue lashed out at her even as it fell. Caitlin swiped the barbed tongue aside and drop-kicked the insect a resounding blow as it fell at her feet. The woman feigning injury sprang to her feet and attacked screaming. Caitlin’s caterpillar silenced her in a heartbeat. She dropped to her knees with a look of surprise, then fell sideways against a sapling and held on for support. “My caterpillar,” she said with a gasp, spiked in the shoulder and quickly dying. Her caterpillar was dead, its oily guts laced across the snow where it had fallen. “Your caterpillar is okay,” Caitlin said. “I want it.” “It’s coming. It’s almost here.” The woman tried to focus on her face. “You’re a zombie.” “So are you.” “I was hungry.” Caitlin sighed. “So was I.” The body started to dissolve. “Okay, so take it, damn you!” Caitlin screamed at her caterpillar. “I just killed one of your fucking friends! So there!” She turned her back on the insect and wiped at the tears streaming from her eyes. But she waited for it to finish, unable to simply walk away from her own hunger. In time, the caterpillar crawled back upon her - 292 -

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shoulders. Caitlin retraced her footprints in the snow. When the caterpillar fed her, she dropped again to her knees and stared straight ahead, waiting patiently for the unwanted pleasure to end. Culverton appeared between a break in the trees just before dusk. The city lay out across the wide valley, bisected by a meandering band of ice. Nothing moved in the streets. Only an occasional tendril of smoke rose into the darkening sky. he could not hear the sound of traffic anywhere. She could sense that the city was not completely dead. It cowered. The small part of it clinging to life had guns. They would be on guard. Caitlin went down to the four-lane interstate that passed near the city. The sky darkened after the sun set, but a rising moon dispelled complete darkness. She found old footprints in the snow to follow into town, overly large footprints made by no ordinary mortal. She walked through Culverton and then backtracked endlessly before deciding that the defenseless were all dead by now. The only survivors were those like herself coming and going like grim reapers in the night, assiduously avoiding one another to prevent just the sort of accidental encounters that had fed her one last time. Her mission was lost. Culverton was gone. She’d find no National Guard to save Osco and the other outlying towns. She’d find no more prey for her caterpillar. The moon was blood red, even at its zenith and the sky black and entirely starless. Curtains of light rippled and cascaded over one another in the northern sky. Northern lights. The aurora Borealis. She had never seen it before in her life, and now the sky was on fire. She had no idea what it all meant, or what connection it might have with the caterpillars, except that something unimaginably horrible was happening. - 293 -

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She headed back into the hills, the night filled with the sound of her own labored breathing. She had all the strength and energy she needed to start her way back to Brighton Hollow, although going back home wasn’t a conscious decision. The only clearly rational thought that passed through her mind came two days later, when she decided she’d be better off abandoning the highway and cutting through the hills in search of game hunters and their camps and the smaller communities and isolated homes scattered here and there. She told herself that she just wanted to be near people. She blocked out the intensity of her never-ending hunger. She climbed into the hills feeling like an ant challenging the snowfields of Antarctica. By ordinary standards, they were indeed impassable. She dug her way through ravines filled with snow piled over her head, but kept as much as possible to the ridges where the snow had blown clear. When the moon fell to the horizon, she kept it in view a bit to her right. It and the rising sun at her back would guide her way back to Brighton Hollow. An hour or two before dawn, she heard a growling sound rise and fall with the breeze. She paused and came fully alert. For one heart-pounding moment, she thought it might be a cougar. But cougars were only fairy tales in these parts, and as she ventured forward again, it became nothing more than an idling car engine. The sound reflected off the surrounding hills. She explored in one direction only to have it fade away. Then she tried the opposite direction. Again, it faded away. She chose a third direction at random. She crossed a county road a few minutes later and saw lights among the trees. The growl sounded louder than ever, and then died suddenly and completely. - 294 -

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It was a four-wheel drive truck rather than a car. One door of the truck had been left open, the interior light casting a glow across the snow. Caitlin looked inside and saw that the ignition was still on. The battery was strong, but the fuel gauge read empty. Behind the truck stood a rich man’s summer home, a pretentious log cabin with skylights and chandeliers. A single light glowed in a side window. Caitlin did not understand what was happening until she drew close enough to see the dryer vent hose running from the exhaust pipe of the truck into the house. She tried the front door of the house and found it unlocked. Inside, the air stank of exhaust fumes. She left the door ajar and opened the back door as well, both to vent the house as well as to reduce the stifling temperature. She found two older people in bed together, wrapped in blankets and naked in one another’s arms. Carbon monoxide poisoning had turned their skin bright red. Caitlin didn’t think they had been dead for very long. The caterpillar ignored the dead. Caitlin went into the living room and pulled a wooden rocking chair around to face the open front door and the frigid moonlit night lying beyond. She sat and rocked, watching the beautiful curtains of light to the north. It was time now to go home and die. One way or another, it had to end. Her anger toward the insect was mounting. In the end, she’d kill it herself in a fit of unstoppable rage. If anything else was going to happen, it would happen soon, because she could sense that the first stage of humanity’s extermination was ending.

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Forty-seven

C

aitlin rounded the hill that put Brighton Hollow in view. She advanced slowly until a bullet whisked by. The crack of the rifle followed and echoed for a time. She waited for a second bullet. When it didn’t come, she started forward again, confident that Rex Logan, or whoever was in charge, would hear her out. Rex met her on the outskirts of town. He looked thinner and smaller, and he had no smile for her as he approached. There was nothing in his eyes but hopelessness, and the apathy it bred. “What do you want, Caitlin?” Caitlin made no effort to hide her tears. “I don’t know why people can’t shoot straight once in a while.” Rex whipped his revolver from his holster and held it out at the end of his reach, pointed straight between her eyes. “Is this what you came back for?” She closed her eyes and waited. There would be no pain, - 296 -

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not even an instant of awareness of injury. With her brains splattered across the snow, there would no memory of ever having lived. Nothing happened, and she opened her eyes to see what he was doing. The gun in his right hand dangled at his side. With his head bent and his shoulders trembling, it took a moment to realize that he was sobbing. “What difference does it make?” he said through his tears. “Why don’t you kill me instead, you fucking bitch? Put me out of my misery.” His arm swept out behind him to include all of Brighton Hollow. “And the rest of us while you’re at it.” “You can fight back,” she said mildly. He shook his head with grim disdain. “There’s a thousand others like you in these woods, and we don’t have food for the winter. Not to worry, Caitlin. Knowing you’ll get yours in the end is the only revenge any of us need.” His accusations stripped her soul bare of any lingering justifications for her existence. She deserved to die, and he was denying her that gesture of mercy in retaliation for Connie’s death. All of this coming from the only man she had ever loved. “Put a bullet in your own fucking head,” he said. “I haven’t got one to waste on you.” He turned and started to walk back to town. “But the caterpillars will die!” she called out after him. “There will still be people left when they’re gone!” He spun back to face her. “It’s too late!” “You don’t know that for sure!” His voice turned sinister and calm. “Caitlin, the communications blackout ended a week ago. We’ve gotten word that the caterpillars are starting to change.” The news struck Caitlin numb. “Changing into what?” Rex shrugged. “How would I know? Butterflies, do you - 297 -

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suppose? Except that when they change, nothing is heard from that area ever again.” He threw his gun at her. She watched it spin through the air and bury itself in the snow at her feet. “If you want to be useful, go find out how we’re all going to die.” Caitlin let him go, filled with a new and terrible sense of apprehension. Her caterpillar trilled its confusion, sensing her fear, but no prey in its surroundings to justify her reaction. She reached up, pulled it loose from her shoulders, and tossed it into the snow. She turned her back on it, forcing it to follow after her as best it could. She then backtracked on impulse, retrieved Rex’s gun, and stuck it in her belt. “Fucking bug,” she muttered. She hurried back into the trees drowning in a sense of dread, wondering for how long her heart could beat so fast before it tore itself into a thousand pieces.

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Forty-eight

H

ow could the caterpillars be changing? Caterpillars became moths and butterflies, but certainly not these horrid creatures. It would not be anything so innocent. Sometime during the night that followed, a gunshot echoed through the hills. A second shot jarred her to full awareness. She turned toward the fading echo like an automaton. The echo reverberated among the hills. Had it not repeated itself from time to time, she would not have been able to narrow down its origin. Beneath the glow of a hazy, gibbous moon in a clear but starless sky, she pushed her way through the snow. Somewhere near morning, her caterpillar grew strangely lethargic. More than once, she reached up and shook it, deliberately irritating the insect to ensure herself that it was still alive. If it hadn’t been for one final gunshot at dawn, she would - 299 -

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never have found the hunter lying in the snow, dying of a gunshot wound to the chest, nor the collection of shacks at the junction of two county roads. The caterpillar stirred with interest at the smell of blood in the air, although not with its usual vigor. A woman screamed rage and frustration from one the handful of three-room, dilapidated houses. Caitlin stayed out of her line of sight, assuming that a shot fired from the house had struck the hunter. Assuming she was otherwise alone among the trees, Caitlin turned in time to catch a five-foot long railroad tie in the gut. The blow knocked the wind from her lungs and sent her reeling backward. Footsteps thudded alongside her head. A dark shape loomed over her, engulfing her in its shadow. A smile beamed maniacally down upon her. “Hiya, hon! Nice of you to drop in so unexpectedly!” He wore an orange and brown fur about his neck. Of all the horror movies she had ever seen, or horror books read, no story had ever featured a monster as terrifying as this. He stood eight feet in height and four in width. As he shifted his weight about, she could hear his joints creaking with the stress. His caterpillar should have attacked her in an instant, and she should have died in that same moment. That didn’t happen. Instead, the giant reached down to snatch Rex’s pistol from her belt. “Bug’s been acting funny past day or so,” he confessed casually. He looked warily about, absently stuffing the pistol into the front pocket of a pair of bib overalls torn at the seams and riding halfway to his knees. “So, where’d your own little critter run off to?” Caitlin refused to answer. She didn’t know. The giant pulled her to her feet. “You owe me, pretty lady. I’m sparing your gorgeous ass, but the gal and her kids in the shack are - 300 -

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mine. If you can find that dude she was shooting at, be my dinner guest.” The giant was referring to the dying hunter, confirming that the woman in the shack was responsible. Nobody would ever know what that petty human drama had been about. The noise had attracted other, far more ominous visitors who had entirely other kinds of interests. The giant squatted and stared at her with eyes burning with an inner fire. “I guess you heard the noise and came snooping, too. If there’s two of us about, there may be more. And more hunters, too. Keep your eyes peeled.” He clicked his tongue and winked at her. Caitlin brushed the snow off her clothes and looked around for her caterpillar. “I’ll squash the little shit if it tries to bite me,” the giant warned her. “You from around here? Say something. Let me hear the sound of your voice.” “I’m from not too far away,” Caitlin said. “Ever looked at yourself in a mirror lately? Got any idea what the bug’s done to you? You’re a goddess, hon. You’re the most beautiful creature God has ever placed on the face of the earth.” Caitlin frowned. “Okay, so maybe not God. Mother Nature. Space aliens. Whatever. It’s been a trip, wouldn’t you say?” Caitlin had never thought of it as an adventure. “We’re all going to die,” she said. He frowned. “How do you figure?” “Something’s happening to the caterpillars,” she said. “They’re changing into something else.” The giant petted the bug on his back affectionately. “Who the hell told you that?” “My boyfriend. He says the blackout is over. He says the - 301 -

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caterpillars are changing, and when it happens, nothing is ever heard from that area again.” He cocked his head with interest. “Does your boyfriend have a bug?” “No.” “Scare tactics, then. Your boyfriend doesn’t want to admit that a new breed is replacing him. You and me, babe. If you don’t have the guts for it, you go the way of the dodo like the rest of them.” He nodded to the cabin from where the gunfire had originated. “She’s mine. You can have the jackass with the thirty-ought-six. The bitch shot him. Big time game hunter. Tried to bag himself a little nookie and got blown away for his trouble.” The giant sidestepped and picked up the railroad tie he had used to knock her to the ground. With another confidential wink and smile, he turned and hurried away, slipping between the trees on the edge of the clearing like a giant shadow. A moment passed. The massive block of tarred wood hurtled end for end through the air and struck a resounding blow against the side of the house. Caitlin heard the screams of terrified children inside. More gunfire erupted from the shattered windows. And then Caitlin heard the click of the hammer striking an empty chamber. The giant went roaring toward the house, lumbering across the back yard like a giant ape with his arms flailing. Caitlin went after him. She paused outside the front door thrown open. Aside from the giant ducking beneath the ceiling within, there were three people in the house, an overweight, unattractive woman with a rifle and two older children. Neither could have been biologically hers, one a black boy of about ten, the other a skinny red-headed girl in her early teens. The woman stopped screaming the instant Caitlin - 302 -

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appeared to view. The children continued to fill the air with shrill cries of terror. The giant knelt before the woman. “Let’s get rid of the kids, shall we?” “They’ll freeze outside!” she cried. The giant grinned. “Tell them to get their asses inside the closet and keep their mouths shut. Now.” The woman gestured frantically to the two children. “Hide! Hide in the closet!” Caitlin looked about wildly for the giant’s caterpillar. It had been on his shoulder when he entered the house. “Wait!” she yelled. More than willing to hide from the horrifying intruder, neither of the children paid her any mind. Caitlin lunged forward as both of the children dived into the nearby closet and slammed the door behind them, but she missed the two by yards. The children fell quiet in an instant. Caitlin’s heart sank in despair. She turned to the giant in helpless rage. “Whoops.” He put his hand to his lips to stifle a giggle. “So sad.” He was barefoot, wearing overalls sized for a heavy-set six-footer at best. She could see the bulge of her pistol in a pocket. She calculated her chances of retrieving it as nil. “Don’t hurt her,” Caitlin said. The giant looked around snickering. “I’m being naughty, aren’t I?” “Don’t make it any worse for these people than it has to be,” Caitlin said. The giant ignored her. “What do you say, lady? Wanna mess around with me, did you say?” “I’ll do anything you want!” the woman cried. “Just don’t hurt the children!” The giant reached for her. - 303 -

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“Leave her alone,” Caitlin said, cold with thoughtless anger. The man looked around in annoyance. “Let her go and you can have me.” “I can have you anyhow,” the man said, “when I’m finished with this little itsy bitsy one.” Caitlin backed alongside a dresser and shoved it suddenly against the closet door. “Let her go, or I’ll kill your bug.” The giant calculated the severity of the threat and sat back with a sigh. “Okay, have it your way.” He grabbed the woman by an arm and threw her brutally toward the door. “Go!” he roared. “Get out of here!” She ran out the door screaming. Caitlin’s oversight dawned on her moments too late. “No, wait!” But she was gone, and the giant chuckled at her clumsiness. “You forgot about your own bug, didn’t you? Even if it doesn’t get her, she can’t hide from me or anyone. She’ll leave footprints in the snow, don’t you think?” Caitlin moaned in frustration and despair. “You gonna carry through with your end of the bargain, or are we going to be bitter enemies to the very end?” Caitlin’s first thought was that she’d rather die trying to scratch this monster’s eyes out. Her second thought was sudden awareness of an oversight of his own. She opened her flannel shirt and barred her breasts before it occurred to him. The giant’s expression went abruptly lax. Drool ran from one corner of his fat lips. “Well, I’ll be go to hell. Will you look at that.” Caitlin ambled closer. She sidestepped to the bed, determined to give him anything he wanted for as long as it took. His own caterpillar had been far more sluggish than hers. If hers had encountered the fleeing woman, it would feed, - 304 -

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but even so, it would seek her out afterward and kill in selfdefense. The giant bellowed laughter. “That bed ain’t gonna hold the both of us, girl!” He threw her down upon it. It collapsed the moment he straddled her body, and he bellowed laughter all the harder. Caitlin clenched her fists, closed her eyes, and focused on trying to breath beneath his crushing weight. He picked at her clothing casually, as if he had all the time in the world, and chuckled to himself as buttons popped between his massive fingers. Caitlin opened her eyes when he paused. Even his breathing had stopped in abject fear. The brown and orange fur of a caterpillar undulated alongside the collapsed bed. “Since your caterpillar is locked in the closet,” Caitlin gasped in a whisper, “that one must be mine.” “Oh, shit.” He died with those last word on his lips. The caterpillar spiked him in the ribs behind one arm, freezing him in place. Caitlin screamed and heaved from side to side, desperate to topple the dissolving mass of the corpse to one side or another. Failing that, she averted her face from the horror and jammed her eyes closed. He melted down upon her, the metallic sweetness of his death cutting her breath off. And then he was light enough to shuck aside like a satin sheet. Caitlin scurried on hands and knees to the far corner of the room. She clenched her fists against the sides of her head, trying and failing to keep her brain from etching the horror upon her memory forever. Clutching at her torn shirt, she staggered outside on unsteady feet. “Is he dead?” But it wasn’t the same woman. This one had a southern - 305 -

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accent, her voice vibrant and filled with inhuman energy. Caitlin searched the face of the trees. “My son, Caliph! Is he dead?” Caitlin saw her then, and the assault upon her sanity continued. She tried to turn away. Her knees gave out instead and dropped her to the ground. The black woman stepping from the shadows was reed thin, standing taller than any zombie Caitlin had ever seen, perhaps as tall as nine feet. Her height forced her to circle around the canopies of the nearest conifers. Like a black widow spider, she came crawling on hands and knees across the snow. Caitlin noticed that she had no caterpillar upon her shoulders. “The boy in the cabin!” the spider-woman cried. “Is he dead?” The skeletal apparition stared down at her, her dark face twisted with anguish. She was dressed in torn bands of cloth wound about her narrow hips. he shivered violently in the cold. Caitlin doubted if her towering body contained an ounce of fat, and not nearly enough muscle to support its own weight. Caitlin glanced back inside the shack. She noticed that her own caterpillar had not entirely consumed the body of the giant, something it had never done before. The water it had peed all over the floor was dark and smelly, more evidence that something was going drastically wrong. She let that crisis slide for the moment and went inside to pull the dresser back away from the closet door. The black boy had to be the jumble of bones and skin, the lucky one of the two. The red-headed child was still alive, lying on her side of the floor, immobilized by a translucent curtain of silk across her face. Her body was tightly bound, and the giant’s caterpillar was a hump on her back, densely wrapped in a new cocoon that it had spun in the handful of minutes in which it had been alone with the children. - 306 -

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Her own caterpillar crawled sluggishly upon her shoulders. It was heavier now than it had ever been. It was full. It had eaten its fill as had all the insects everywhere. Now, it was time to metamorphose. Caitlin remembered the word from high school. The caterpillars were spinning silk cocoons, containing within each a last source of nourishment. Caitlin turned and ran out of the shack. The spider woman lashed out at her as she went by, but she missed and could not hope to keep pace with her. Caitlin followed her own boot prints back to Brighton Hollow. Rex Logan and Doc Kaufman had to know what she had found. Before it was too late, they had to see for themselves. The abandoned spider-woman called after her. Caitlin could hear her wail of torment echoing among the hills for hours afterward.

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he dared not approach Brighton Hollow with the same suicidal boldness as before. She waited until nightfall, and then zigzagged her way through town to Dr. Basil Kaufman’s house. She tore the back door from its wooden frame in her haste and rushed into his bedroom to find the old man fumbling to light a lantern. “I left my caterpillar outside,” she said quickly. She had, in fact, stuffed the bug in Doc’s mailbox and closed it to ensure it wouldn’t hurt anyone, or run off on her. She waited until Doc recovered from the shock of her violent entrance. Caitlin was appalled at how old and tiny he had grown. Even his house had drastically shrunk in size. “The caterpillars are spinning cocoons,” she said. “I saw one wrap up a little girl like a fly in a spider web.” Doc reached for his shoes, the only item of clothing he was missing in the unheated house. “What about your own insect?” he said, his voice hardly more than a harsh

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whisper. Caitlin heard congestion in his lungs when he breathed. “It’s acting funny.” It isn’t eating right, she wanted to say, but she didn’t dare subject Doc Kaufman to unnecessary horror. Doc reached for an aerosol-powered horn from his nightstand. Even before the caterpillars, Doc had used the devices to attract the attention of the sheriff’s office during medical emergencies. “Plug your ears. This is rather loud.” He let loose two honking blasts and sat trembling on the edge of his bed until a guard came crashing into the room. The man reeled back in panic when he saw Caitlin crouched in the room like an overgrown child in a dollhouse. He fumbled for a holstered revolver, but in his clumsiness, he gave Doc time to intervene. “Caitlin means no harm. Tell Rex that Caitlin has important news to report. Quote me verbatim.” The guard gave him a prompt nod of acknowledgment and rushed off. Doc sat on the edge of his bed and gazed at her with rheumy eyes dulled by pain. “He’s going to be mad at me,” Caitlin said. “I could have hurt you. But I’m so scared. I’ve never meant to hurt anyone.” Rex came pounding through the house. He paused in the bedroom door and stood glaring at Caitlin. “It’s happening,” Doc said. “It must be happening simultaneously everywhere. This may be our only chance to see for ourselves what more we have in store for us.” “Caitlin, tell me exactly what’s going on,” Rex said. “The caterpillars are spinning cocoons,” Caitlin said, her voice and her entire body trembling. “We’ll take the snowmobile,” Doc said. “Just the two of us. As observers.” “Doc, you’re too damned sick to go anywhere.” Doc Kaufman chuckled sadly. “Of course, but would you - 309 -

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deny me? If I don't go, will I feel better in the morning, do you think?” Rex gazed at the old man, then shook his head with exasperation and turned away. “Get your stuff together. I’ll be right back.” Doc rose painfully to his feet. He turned to Caitlin for help. “I need to pack a few things.” Caitlin followed instructions and stuffed a backpack and a black leather bag with clothes and equipment. She followed him outside carrying two large canvas bags. Caitlin heard the snowmobile coming from a mile away. It pulled up in front of Doc’s house in a cloud of acrid smoke, its headlight a wide swath of stark white light that cast moving shadows among the surrounding trees. Half the town managed to gather on the street out front. Their kerosene lanterns illuminated angry and frightened faces hovering disembodied in the night. Caitlin fetched her caterpillar from its prison. It should have been trilling with protest with so much prey at hand. Instead, it was silent and all but inert. Even its grip on her shoulder had weakened. “The snowmobile won’t carry the three of us,” Rex said to Caitlin. “We’ll go on ahead.” He studied the calm night. “We’ll follow your footprints.” The snowmobile roared off into the night. Suddenly alone, Caitlin glanced at the massed townspeople in the street. They all had known her as Leon Biggs’ daughter. Now they saw her as a freak and a traitor in league with the beings who had destroyed their world. But they let her by. She crossed the street and cut through the yards to the edge of town. There, she resigned herself to the laborious journey back to the village at the crossroads, following her own trail in the snow as Rex had done, moving at twice the speed any of the men of Brighton - 310 -

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Hollow would have been able to maintain, but only a fraction of the speed of the snowmobile. She had time to think about what her caterpillar would do when the time came for it to spin its cocoon. How would it feed her, if that happened? What would become of her if it wrapped her up like it did the red-haired child in the closet? Would it kill her in the end as seemed so perfectly obvious? She reached the outskirts of the small town of living nightmares. Rex had parked back in the trees and had decided to wait for her for the protection she provided. Caitlin returned to the shack containing the half-digested body of the giant and the cocooned child with the two men following. She heard voices in the distance, probably hunters from some nearby community roaming within a mile or two of their position. She saw no fresh footprints in the area, no evidence of the woman with the rifle anywhere nearby. The spider-woman was nowhere in sight. She peeked inside the shack where the giant lay frozen on the floor like a half-melted ice cream bar. Rex and Doc inspected the interior of the shack. She took the opportunity to retrieve the pistol the giant had taken from her and tucked it into her waistband. Caitlin cautiously opened the closet door. “Holy shit,” the deputy murmured. Doc examined the cocoon closely. “I don’t think I can extract the child. The caterpillar is wrapped around it.” “We can’t just leave her in there,” Rex said just as softly. “We need to allow events to unfold of their own accord in order to understand what’s happening,” Doc insisted. “Too many lives are at stake.” Rex turned to Caitlin. “What about this spider-woman you mentioned. Where is she?” Caitlin glanced out the window, thinking her footprints - 311 -

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would be easy enough to follow in the snow. “Shall I go find her?” Rex mulled over the idea and nodded. “But watch out for yourself, and get back as soon as you can.” “You might consider leaving your caterpillar behind,” Doc suggested half-heartedly. Caitlin thought about it. She gave a little shake of her head. “Caitlin, it might turn on you at any time.” “I can’t live without it anyhow,” she reminded him. Caitlin started out across the field of snow lightheaded with a growing sense of unreality. The bug was oddly limp on her shoulder. Rather than risk having it fall, she tucked it beneath one arm and hurried through the morning light to where she had encountered the spider-woman. Her trail in the snow led Caitlin down a ravine. A mile or two away, it went back up a hill and crossed a clearing to an enclosed picnic shelter of a state park. Caitlin circled the shelter fearing an ambush. A number of sparrows hopping about the entrance to the shelter assured her that no one lurked inside. Cautiously, she went in. It took an anxious moment for her eyes to adjust to the gloom. She started violently when the dark mass resolved itself before her in the dim light. The spider-lady. The spiderwoman’s caterpillar lifted its head and sniffed the air in reaction to her fright. The caterpillar had turned her into a monster, and then it had betrayed her. She was still alive. Death would have relaxed the expression of horror on her face. She hung halfway up a roof support, her and the caterpillar, all spun together with a dense covering of silk. Her legs were folded against her body. One bare foot protruded. Her gangly arms were twisted over her head in her last gesture of self-protection. What had been a yard-long caterpillar had already grown - 312 -

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to a pulsating enigma half the size of the spider woman herself. Caitlin backed away shaking her head. She did not want to see the thing that would emerge from that opaque covering of silk. She did not want to believe that this was what her own caterpillar was going to do to her, given the chance. No matter how intense her instinct for survival, she had to be willing to put the gun to her head and pull the trigger before that ever happened. Caitlin went back to report her discovery to Doc and Rex. Doc took a seat in the adjoining kitchen of the shack containing the bodies of the children and stared at the floor for a time, lost in thought. “Free the little girl,” Rex said. Doc led the way to the closet. He pointed out a central location along the cocoon’s mass. “Put a bullet there.” Rex studied the situation. “I might hit the child.” “Don’t shoot,” Caitlin said. “There are hunters nearby. I can hear them.” “They would have heard the snowmobile regardless,” Rex reminded her. The oversight annoyed her. Everyone in the entire world seemed capable of outwitting and outthinking her. Rex drew his revolver. “Doc, Caitlin, back away.” Caitlin didn’t have a good view of what was happening, but she heard the hammer of Rex’s revolver set. The shot that followed rang in her ears. Rex stood back and let Doc move in. With the caterpillar safely dispatched, Doc bent over the body of the child and sighed after a moment. “There’s no pulse. There’s no way of knowing if she had one to begin with.” Rex holstered his gun. “Let’s get to the shelter before company arrives. I’ll go get the snowmobile. Caitlin, you go on ahead.” Caitlin was halfway to the shelter before she heard the snowmobile cackle to life and come screaming across the - 313 -

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terrain after her. Rex sped on by, following the trail of her footprints in the snow. By the time she caught up with the two, the snowmobile had parked alongside a protective wall of firewood. Doc and Rex were inside the shelter inspecting the cocoon. “Incredible,” Doc murmured. “This is just incredible.” Rex looked over a brick fireplace built into one side wall. “They’ll see the smoke,” Caitlin warned. “They? How many?” “A dozen,” Caitlin said. “Maybe more.” Rex grimaced. “I’ve got to keep Doc warm. I brought a couple rifles along. It should be enough to hold them off, if you’ll stand guard for us.” “I can do that,” Caitlin said, eager to be of use. Caitlin started out the door. “Stay inside with us. Keep watch through the shutters. If you expose yourself, you’re liable to get yourself nailed by someone with a scope.” Caitlin swallowed her pride and did as she was told. As she circled the inside of the shelter and peeked through the cracks in the shutters, she watched Doc set up a camcorder in front of the cocoon and Rex light a fire. The sight of the camcorder terrified her, the heat of the fire became unbearable, and her caterpillar grew agitated and chattered loudly. “Caitlin, put the damned bug outside,” Rex said. “It’s making me nervous as hell.” Despite the threat the caterpillar had become, she couldn’t bear to part with the insect. She needed it close so that she could monitor its behavior. She was still hungry and maybe it would feed her again. “I’ll keep watch outside,” Caitlin said. “It’s getting dark, and I can see better than they can anyhow.” “Caitlin, damn it.” - 314 -

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She ignored him, although the hunters were closer, and Rex had been right about the danger of getting shot if she stayed in the open. Instead, she ran for the trees. She would reconnoiter and give Rex an accurate assessment of the danger. Rex could hold off a small army with a rifle, long enough at least for the transformed caterpillar to emerge from its cocoon and to show the world what was going to happen next. Whatever came out was going to be deadly by an unimaginable factor. She could feel the truth of her suspicion in her bones. The creature on her shoulders was not her ally in life. It was not her provider. She had known from the very beginning that it was just using her, and then it would be the death of her.

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aitlin circled around to where she could hear the greatest concentration of voices. There were more men than she had thought. When they came over the crest of a low hill, she counted seventeen. Most carried rifles. A few had bows. Dusk came early to a heavily clouded sky. A few men tested their flashlights, throwing about enough light for Caitlin to see by. Flashlights and bullets were irreplaceable, she remembered. These were not just hunters. They were a veritable army from nearby communities defending themselves against bugs, zombies, and human intruders. Men took up position in blinds and in the low-hanging limbs of trees. Everything was going wrong all at once. She had Rex’s pistol tucked in her waistline, but if she used it to defend herself even once, she would be blown away by the firepower surrounding her like a dandy-lion fluff caught in a hailstorm. Her caterpillar wouldn’t hold on by itself and she kept transferring it from her shoulder to a safer position - 316 -

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beneath one arm, wondering if it would seek her out later if she simply abandoned it, and wondering what it would do it that happened. It was time to report back to Rex with the information she had gathered. She had no guarantee that there weren’t other groups on the far side of the clearing, and if they attacked under the cover of darkness, she had to be on hand to hear them coming and warn Rex. She slid down a gully toward the clearing. She rounded a clump of bushes and stopped not ten feet from the barrel of a rifle pointed at her head. The rifle was just a twenty-two, but the dark eyes sighting over the barrel in the gloom were young and his aim was bound to be steady. “Whoops,” she said softly, hoping to sound friendly. If she could stall for time, she could leap into the darkness and escape in an instant. “If you move,” the boy said, “I’ll have to plug you, lady. I know what you are.” The caterpillar squirmed in her hands. It pulled away and rippled down the back of her pants leg, crawling unseen into the underbrush. “Where’s the bug?” he said an instant too late. “I don’t have one.” She held her hands out to show him. The boy looked around with growing agitation. He took a breath to call for help. “My bug’s dead,” Caitlin said hurriedly. “The snowmobile ran it over.” The boy stared at her for a time. “No shit?” “It’s gone.” “That’s too bad. I’ve heard what happens when zombies lose their bugs. Maybe you can get another one.” “Maybe.” He grinned. “Take Wanda’s bug. Or Olson’s.” - 317 -

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“Wanda must be the skinny black lady,” Caitlin said. “Is Olson the big fat guy?” “That’s who we’re after,” the boy said. “We’ve had enough of those two. They won’t need their bugs when we’re done with them. You a friend of those freaks?” “I killed Olson and his bug,” Caitlin said, hoping it was what he wanted to hear. “He tried to bother me.” “Have you seen Wanda? She was looking for her boy. We’ve kept him pretty much out of sight, but he got away from us a couple days ago.” Caitlin thought it best not to let him know that the boy was dead, and she had no way to explain the spider-woman’s fate. “I haven’t seen them,” was her answer. “So, who the hell are you, lady?” “I’m helping Rex Logan and Doc Kaufman.” “Isn’t Logan one of Biggs’ deputies?” “Yes.” The boy shifted position and frowned. He lowered his aim carelessly. “They told me zombies were ugly and deformed.” “I guess that includes me.” “Not hardly, but you still kill people. I’ve seen what your bugs do.” Caitlin kept her mouth shut, thinking that she was probably dead meat after all. “Grandma says it’s God’s punishment because we’ve been so wicked,” the boy said. “She says you’re angels. Angels of death.” “I really don’t know,” Caitlin said. “I’m just out here to check on you guys. Do you think your friends will leave Rex and Doc alone?” The boy shook his head doubtfully. “You’re trespassing. They’ll think Logan and his men are after our food. And nobody needs an excuse to shoot a zombie.” “Do they know where we are?” - 318 -

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The boy grinned. “You’re at the park shelter.” He was staring at her in fascination. When a rustle in the underbrush caught his attention, she ducked into the trees. The twenty-two cracked and echoed, but the bullet missed her by yards. The boy called for help. Men ran down the hill, fanning out and shouting to one another as they came. Caitlin slipped through their ranks. She stopped at the edge of the clearing thinking she couldn’t just abandon her caterpillar so far from the shelter. It had been so slow and sluggish. And helpless? She sighed in nervous despair, doubting if the caterpillars could ever be helpless or vulnerable. If she left it behind, the night would soon be so dark that she’d never find it, but if she backtracked and went looking for it later, she would be leaving Rex and Doc alone and vulnerable. Indecisive, she crouched in an erosion ditch and waited out the men searching the underbrush, fearing she’d get shot transversing the open grounds between the trees and the shelter regardless. A crescent moon like an inflamed scar transversed the night sky. The sky itself was as black as obsidian, but burning again with colored lights in the north. The hunters rummaged about for an hour, then retreated back to their campfires. Clouds filled the sky and the darkness became total. She backtracked to search for the caterpillar. When she reached the spot where she had encountered the boy, he was gone, but the caterpillar was perched nearby on a fallen log, illuminated by shards of firelight flickering through the underbrush. With a chill of apprehension, Caitlin could see that something was seriously wrong with it. It looked swollen in size, its fur sparser, and it pulsated like the cocoons she had seen on the little girl and the spider woman in the picnic shelter. Its head had elongated and flattened out, reminding her of the hood of a cobra. Sensing her presence, it raised its - 319 -

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head and sniffed the air, trilling softly and soothingly, calling her to it for feeding. Caitlin wet her lips. She was ready to be fed. The last feeding had been inadequate, and her hunger had become ravenous. The temptation to go to it was unbearable. She had come to rely upon that soft, friendly trilling. She took a step forward and paused, sensing danger and thinking she should wait until she saw for herself the fate of the spider-woman. Or did it matter? How could it matter if she had no way to satisfy the hunger burning in her? “Caitlin, don’t.” Rex’s voice was too soft to startle her. “Stay back,” she told the man. “Don’t let it hurt you.” “I’ll kill it if it makes a move toward either one of us. Keep your distance until you understand what is happening. You can wait that long.” “I can’t wait much longer,” Caitlin said. “We’ll stick it out together. Please, come back with me. I left Doc alone, and I shouldn’t have done that.” “I can’t just leave it here.” “It’s not going to get far on its own.” “The hunters might kill it.” “They won’t see it.” Maybe. At any rate, as long as she had Rex’s support, she was too frightened of the insect to risk a feeding now. In all probability, the bug would just follow her back to the shelter anyhow. She backed away. “Okay, but I counted seventeen men with guns and bows and some flashlights. They were out hunting the spider-woman and the giant my caterpillar killed, but they know we’re at the shelter, and they think we’re poachers.” Rex muttered a profanity. “Let’s get the hell back before we’re spotted.” - 320 -

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But once at the clearing’s edge, the clouds had parted again. They could see men spreading out along the tree line. “Too late,” Rex muttered. “They’ll see us if we try to cross out in the open.” “Maybe we can talk to them,” Caitlin said. “I’ve given up trying to reason with men with guns.” Caitlin studied the sky. “I think it’ll be dark again in a minute.” Their luck held out. The moment a cloud crossed the moon, Rex took her hand and started out across the open field. It was the first time in as far back as she could remember that he had ever touched her. Doc Kaufman looked around casually from his seat by the fire when they came through the door of the shelter. He set two metal cups on a picnic table within reach and poured steaming coffee. “Bout time you two got back.” Caitlin sat close to the old man, reveling in a strong sense of camaraderie with the two. These were her allies in life, her friends. Like Frank Kingsley, her father, they understood what had happened to her. They feared the caterpillars, but not her. They hated what had happened to her, but she was still a part of the human race in their eyes. Doc didn’t look well. He was pale and sweaty, and he trembled violently from time to time. He finally turned away, and Caitlin watched him rummage through his black bag and come up with a hypodermic needle and a small vial of liquid. “What’s that stuff?” Rex wanted to know. “This is the last of my broad spectrum antibiotic. Won’t help if I got a virus, but it’ll kill a germ or two.” Doc rolled up a sleeve and tried to put the needle into a vein. “My hand’s none too steady. Give me a hand.” Rex knew how to use the syringe. When Rex finished with the injection, Doc put his equipment back in his bag and laid down on a sleeping bag spread out before the fire. Rex - 321 -

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tossed a blanket over the old man and sat at his side sipping coffee. “I got vitals on the woman,” Doc said. Rex looked up at the grotesque silhouette of the spider woman hidden in its curtain of silk and suspended halfway up the roof support. “I told you not to risk getting that close. Is she alive?” “She’s breathing roughly twice a minute, quick and shallow. Pulse is weak and about thirty beats a minute. I tried for blood pressure in the leg. I couldn’t get anything, but I got something of a core body temperature.” Caitlin absently wondered how he had done that. “Temperature read in the low eighties. She’s barely hanging on, sort of in a state of suspended animation. That may have been true of the child I thought dead as well. She may even be conscious.” “She is,” Caitlin said. “I can feel it, but is she up there at all?” Doc sighed. “You think it’s going to feed on her,” Caitlin said, which had been her own suspicion all along. “The insects have adapted earthly patterns,” Doc said, his voice soft and husky. “There are many examples in the insect world of hatchlings that feed upon paralyzed prey.” “Maybe not,” Caitlin said quickly. “Maybe it’s just taking care of her until it turns into something new and wonderful. It’s from another world. Maybe you don’t know everything there is to know about it.” Both Doc and Rex seemed unconvinced by her argument. “Stand guard for the night,” Rex said gently. “I need to catch a few more hours sleep.” He tossed a sleeping bag on the stone floor near Doc. Caitlin shot to her feet. “Yes, I will.” “Watch for that damned bug of yours.” - 322 -

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Doc chuckled. “I’m certain we would both prefer to die of pneumonia or starvation.” “I will,” Caitlin said, alarmed that they could joke about dying. “If it comes back, don’t trust it,” Rex said. “Don’t even touch it.” “I won’t,” Caitlin said softly. She glanced up at the spider woman looming in the darkness. She would, though. One way or another, it would have its own way with her. Her growing hunger would see to that. The caterpillar would get her in the end.

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aitlin woke Rex three hours later. “Doc’s not breathing right, and I think they’re going to try something over in the trees. It’s almost light out.” Rex climbed out of his sleeping bag and knelt before Doc. He took his pulse, then patted him on the cheek. “Doc, come on, wake up.” Rex looked up with a grim expression. “He’s unconscious and burning with fever. Loosen his clothes for me.” Caitlin unbuttoned Doc’s shirt and his belt. He was alarmingly hot, so hard it frightened her to touch him with her bare fingers. She dragged him a short distance away from glowing embers of the fire and then retreated to the far end of the shelter to cool off in an environment more suited to her enhanced metabolism. Rex roamed the perimeter of the shelter, studying the trees in the early morning gloom. “Looks like they’re going to

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rush us from two different directions. Caitlin, I need you at the north end.” He was carrying his rifle. He nodded to indicate the revolver tucked in her pants. “Squeeze off one round when I tell you. We need to let them know there are at least two of us and that we’re both armed and dangerous.” Caitlin watched the edge of the trees through the crack in the boards. She saw a small, dark figure start to zigzag into the clearing. “I’ve got one coming this way,” she called out. “Same here. One shot. Whenever you’re ready.” Caitlin fired deliberately high. Rex fired at the same time. Doc’s eyes flew open to the noise. He looked up at horror at the cocoon hanging over him, but just as quickly lapsed back into unconsciousness. “I nailed one,” Rex said without enthusiasm. “I missed.” “Is he retreating?” “He’s tripping all over himself.” “Then give it a rest. We’ve made our point.” Rex sat leaning against the wall. Caitlin heard his teeth chattering. She went over to sit at his side. “Do you mind?” she asked when it occurred to her that he might not want her near. He smiled and shook his head. “You’re trembling. Are you cold?” “I’m hungry.” “How bad is it?” It was very bad. It was a terrifying sensation. Without a caterpillar, there was nothing at all she could do to help herself. “If it gets too bad,” she said, “I’ll have to go find my caterpillar.” Rex eyed the spider-woman suspended from the roof support. “You’d risk that?” The spider woman looked dead and shrouded in cobwebs, as if she had been hanging there for years. - 325 -

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“That’s what will happen to you if you mess with that godforsaken bug, Caitlin.” Caitlin could see the hump behind the enshrouded spider woman pulsating and shifting about. It would emerge soon. The new creature, whatever it was, was going to be a lot bigger than a caterpillar, bigger by far than even a human being. “It won’t be long,” Rex said. Caitlin eyed the camcorder with mounting anxiety. The camcorder would record suffering beyond human endurance. “Do what you have to,” Rex said finally. “There’s nothing I can do to help.” “I know.” “None of it was your fault,” Rex said. “I’ve been angry about what happened to Connie, but I never really blamed you.” It was all Caitlin needed to hear. “I should have stood up to Leon when you came to me for help.” She waited to hear more. The waiting was as bad as the hunger. She wanted to hear how he felt about her. If he loved her, then everything was okay. Regardless of what happened, they would be together at the end.

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lose to dusk, the cocoon began to sing. Caitlin heard it first. Doc opened his eyes. He had difficulty keeping them focused. Rex stared up at the cocoon

with his mouth hanging open.

The high-pitched noise was an odd blend of different frequencies, almost like a band of angels screaming. It had the strangest effect upon her. It pierced her brain and resonated in every muscle in her body. She felt herself go slowly stiff. The song was paralyzing her. “Put your hand over your ears!” she cried. But she couldn’t squeeze her ears tight enough to shut out the sound, and Rex had already succumbed. The cocoon stirred. A section of the gray webbing tore. Something wet and black protruded into the dim light. Caitlin glanced at the camcorder. Doc had wanted the event recorded. She wondered who would be left to watch it? Caitlin wanted to bask in the harmonic song, drown herself in it and think no more. Whatever was left of her existence, she didn’t want to deal with it, but Rex stood in - 327 -

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harm’s way, and she turned to him, fighting her stiffening muscles every inch of the way. She grabbed him by both arms. Standing a few inches taller than the deputy, and outweighing him by twenty or thirty pounds, she had no trouble dragging him out through the entrance and into the cold afternoon. Bullets smacked into the side of the picnic shelter the moment she exposed the two of them. Fractions of a second later came the sound of the rifle fire that had sent the projectiles on their way. She pushed Rex to the ground, fell on top of him, and buried her face in the snow. Three more bullets plunged lower to the ground. And then the gunfire paused. On hands and knees, Caitlin dragged Rex to the cover of the stack of firewood where the snowmobile was parked. Then she crawled back into the shelter to rescue Doc Kaufman. Something emerged from the cocoon. The spider-lady squirmed. As Caitlin watched, her face ruptured through the gray silk covering, and she opened her mouth. And she screamed. She sucked breath, and screamed again, one long, drawn-out wail of agony. Caitlin grabbed the spider-woman’s foot protruding through the cocoon and pulled with all her might, trying to get her away from whatever was hurting her. The leg came loose and Caitlin fell over backward. Tissue tore from inside the cocoon, a wet, crackling sound. The spider woman convulsed. Caitlin clawed at the fabric of the cocoon in a frantic effort to free her. The shrill song intensified in defense against Caitlin’s attack. It reached a pitch that sapped Caitlin’s strength. Still, she managed to tear through the webbing. And the body of the spider lady spilled upon her, what was left of the corpse. Caitlin staggered back, defeated, but - 328 -

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holding her ground, waiting with an all-encompassing need to see what manner of creature the caterpillar had become. It emerged black and wet, an insect with legs. The keening sound intensified, devastatingly effective. Caitlin’s legs became wood. She would not have escaped if only her own life had been at stake, but Doc lay at her feet, and the need to help him was greater than her willingness to die. Using every ounce of effort available to her, she grasped Doc’s sleeping back and dragged him clear of the shelter. Two bullets smacked into the side of the shelter. Confused and frightened voices cried back and forth the in the distance. Caitlin ignored the now impotent human danger. “My rifle,” Rex murmured through numbed lips, only his eyes moving down to indicate the weapon clutched in his frozen grip. Forcing her fingers to respond, she grasped the butt of Rex’s gun, and then paused to rest, unable to remove it from his paralyzed grasp. Rex stared up at her in horror. Caitlin remembered the gore covering her from head and face. Rex thought it her own blood. His lips moved. Caitlin could not hear him over the keening sound growing with the morning light. She thought of her own caterpillar. She had to go find it. If it wasn’t too late, maybe it would feed her one last time. Clouds sweeping to the east hid the first gray glow of dawn, and the moon had set. From time to time, it was dark enough still to risk a dash to the trees. “I have to go,” she whispered, speaking more to herself than to Rex about what had to be done. “Caitlin, no!” She started out across the field feeling stiff and clumsy. Putting distance between herself and the shelter, the keening sound grew dimmer and her body increasingly flexible. - 329 -

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She slipped through the trees and found most of the hunters clustered about a campfire a half mile away. They generated a low hum of conversation, terrified to a man. The eerie sound of the caterpillar’s keening echoed through the hills for miles, too dim for most of the men to pinpoint, and too faint for it to paralyze. But it struck fear into the hearts of each of them. Caitlin planned a systematic search for her caterpillar. She would begin where she had last seen the insect. And it was there that she found it. The caterpillar hadn’t moved, but the boy with the twenty-two caliber rifle had returned, looking for either her or her bug. Caitlin cried out in anguish, but it was too late to do anything. The boy knelt in the snow with his rifle lying on the ground before him. The caterpillar was on his back. The gray tongue was out, except that now it was throwing out a thread of gray silk, and as the tongue whipped around and around, it was binding itself and its prey together. It wove its cocoon as fast as the eye could follow, and it took little more than ten or fifteen minutes to accomplish its task. Caitlin could do nothing but watch. Before it finished the cocoon completely, however, the caterpillar flung its weight from side to side and toppled the paralyzed boy. hen it crawled along the ground inch by inch to a nearby tree. And there it climbed, lifting its burden ten feet off the ground with an amazing display of strength and determination. The gray tongue lashed again from side to side, binding itself and its victim to the tree trunk. Caitlin reached for the abandoned rifle on the ground. Sensing her presence, the caterpillar trilled soothingly, inviting her closer. She accepted the invitation, but put the barrel of the rifle to the boy’s chest and squeezed the trigger. The rifle exploded. The caterpillar thrashed wildly. She - 330 -

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raised her aim slightly and fired again. Black grease gushed down the truck of the sapling, all that remained of a hundred human lives. Caitlin turned away. She hurried back across the clearing and sank at Rex’s side outside the shelter. Rex had managed to seal Doc inside his sleeping bag where he lay on the ground nearby. Overhead, the blue sky of dawn began to seep across the black of night. The morning was bitterly cold. The wind had whisked all of the clouds away to the northeast. Toward the west, it was still dark enough for stars to shine, if there had been any. Instead, she saw a strange band of gold metal flake sprinkled across the sky to the south. “I’ve never seen that before,” Caitlin said in amazement. Rex said nothing, still writhing in the agony induced by the keening of the giant insect. The sky held her attention. “Where did the stars go? What’s happening to the world?” Caitlin heard an ominous rattle in Doc’s throat. “We should try to get back to Brighton Hollow,” she said, trying to focus her wandering thoughts to the here and now. The constant keening of the creature in the park shelter made it difficult to hold a coherent thought in her head. Rex eyed the nearby snowmobile, but he made no effort to move. They were thinking the same thing. They needed to see for themselves what would became of the caterpillars. It would accomplish nothing to return to Brighton Hollow ignorant of their fate. Rex scooted closer to her after a time. She curled in close to share her body heat. “I heard gunshots while you were gone,” he managed to say through lips that seemed not to want to work. “Did you find your caterpillar?” “I killed it,” she said. “It’s dead. It’s almost over now.” The first rays of sunlight crept over the eastern - 331 -

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horizon. From within the picnic shelter, the singing began to intensify.

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he hunters encircled the clearing and attacked blindly from the depths of their panic. They charged into the open from all sides, firing from the hip as they came. Caitlin huddled alongside the snowmobile with Rex and Doc at her side, caught between the creature the caterpillar of the spider-lady had become and the humming bullets kicking dirt and impacting the shelter. The keening song from inside the shelter rose in intensity and altered tone another chord. It reverberated in Caitlin’s head. Rex thrashed his way to his feet screaming and tried to turn and run. He managed a half dozen steps, then clenched his fists, arced his back, and became a statue standing against the first light of dawn. All about the clearing, the hunters reacted in much the same way. They stopped, an expression of agonized astonishment fixed upon their faces. Some dropped their weapons. A few dropped to their knees. Caitlin managed to turn about to see what new horror would emerge from the shelter. Something inside pounded on - 333 -

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the closed window shutters until it found the door that set it free. From the dark maw of the shelter emerged a true angel of death. It ducked through the low overhang and rose into the light of day. Distended veins pumped blood. Slowly, translucent wings unfurled, double wings that opened to the sky and made Caitlin think of a dragonfly. They caught the early sun in a riot of iridescent color and began to dry and harden. The caterpillar’s butterfly had been born. Now, she saw how she would die. The creature probably weighed less than a hundred pounds, but it stood fifteen feet tall, its body arced upward so that four legs supported it, and two others drooped beneath the wings like those of a preying mantis, each tipped with enormous claws, one clutching what was left of the spider woman. The insect’s head, too, was more biological plagiarism, elongated like that of a preying mantis with two multifaceted eyes set high and wide. The creature tossed the corpse aside. The spider woman’s stick-like legs and arms flailed wildly, and then she vanished in the deep, blood-stained snow. The singing became deafening, and the wings begin to beat, slowly at first, then fast enough to stir glistening snow and send it spiraling into the air. The dark angel rose into the winter sky in all its awful glory. Caitlin could pivot well enough to keep the airborne creature in view. It swooped about and settled lightly upon the shoulders of a frozen hunter several hundred feet away. The supple body bent almost in two. The insect reached down and crushed the skull of its victim with a report that sounded almost like a gunshot. The wings beat twice, carrying the twitching body ten feet into the air. It then flung the corpse aside and darted gracefully to one side and took another victim, and then a third. More - 334 -

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and more rapidly it moved, a killing machine that decimated the ranks of its human victims with mechanical precision. Systematically, the airborne demon coated the snow in the clearing in a spray of human blood. The monster came fully alive in the cold dawn. It flit about like lightning, a demon with no mission in life except to dispense a quick and impartial death to all. When it exhausted its supply of victims, only Caitlin and Rex remained standing, and only Caitlin still moved. It circled her casually, singing its eerie siren song of entrancement. Caitlin’s body tightened and become increasingly rigid. Pain lanced through the muscles of her neck as she forced herself to turn and keep the monster in view. It descended twenty feet away, sensing that she hadn’t entirely succumbed to its song. Cautiously, it approached, leaning toward her with mandibles opened wide and screaming its terrible song directly into her face. Caitlin had already drawn the pistol tucked into the waist of her pants, but it hung uselessly at her side in her frozen grip. Using every last calorie of the superhuman strength the caterpillar had ever given her, she raised her arm. The wings of the dark angel flared and it sprang. Three shots cracked out over the clearing before the hammer clicked on an empty chamber. At point blank range, each found its mark. Shattered chitin and blood the consistency of motor oil gushed out over the frozen ground. The singing stopped abruptly. A breeze caught the outstretched wings. The alien body careened backward, rolling across the ground, delicate membranes breaking and tearing as it went. For a time, the legs twitched, and it writhed, whistling for air. And then it was dead, and Caitlin looked down at the gun in her hand and realized that she had not left a bullet for herself. - 335 -

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oc was looking up at her when the focus of his gaze relaxed. He strained to sit up, his eyes wide with astonishment. “I saw!” The tension in his body drained away. He fell back, impact with the ground expelling his last breath from his lungs. Rex crawled weeping on hands and knees to the old man and embraced him. Caitlin felt nothing but the intensity of her hunger. She turned back to the shelter and put fresh wood on the fire, then sat safely back to watch it burn. In time, Rex joined her, still unsteady on his feet, his eyes hollow with lingering shock. “What are you going to do now?” Caitlin said. Rex’s voice sounded hollow. “I’m taking Doc home.” “Take all the rifles and supplies you can find back with you.”

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The suggestion caught Rex by surprise. “I guess I should at that.” Caitlin stared into the dancing flames. “I was prettier than Connie, wasn’t I?” “Caitlin, you were always prettier than Connie. You were the prettiest girl in the whole county.” “I can’t live like this, Rex. I’m hurting really bad.” “I know.” “Help me?” She could hear his ragged breathing sounding from behind her. “I loved you,” she said. “More than anything.” Something brushed her hair. His hand, but maybe the barrel of his service revolver. If he shot her, she would never feel it. She would cease to exist and never know she had ever lived. She waited for him to say it, the last thing she needed to hear from anybody ever again. She waited for him to say that he loved her. The End

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