CREEPERS (12 page)

Chapter 45

Early the next morning in Nguyen’s Place, Sam, Laura, Kristin, and Curley were lined up at the counter, drinking coffee and trying to recover from a long night spent on the floor with nothing more than blankets.

Kristin’s Goth look was completely shot to hell. She had washed off her make-up and wore a flannel shirt borrowed from the store’s rack.

Tommy stood behind the counter clutching a cordless phone. He started to dial, then stopped and looked at Sam. “Um, what exactly do I tell the sheriff?”

“Tell him to leave his gun at home and bring a Weed Eater,” said Karl, stepping up to the counter.

Tommy held the phone out. “Sam…”

Sam took the phone, frowned. “I thought Carla called earlier.”

“She was going to, then she wanted me to, and then with Rufus and all…”

“Is there someone else? Someone closer we could call? Another agency?” Laura asked.

“Not really,” Sam said. “Maybe the CHP. But they have an even bigger territory. No, Templeton is the one to call.”

Sam raised the phone, punched in the sheriff’s number, and—

Nothing, not even a dial tone.

“It’s dead.”

“
What?
” Tommy said.

Sam hit the redial button. Waited. But the phone was clearly out of service.

“Nothing,” said Sam. He shook his head. “Maybe the line’s down.”

“Doesn’t make sense,” said Karl. “We haven’t had any high winds. Only time the phone goes down is when we get a blow.”

“Maybe it’s—”

But Curley was cut off when the front door opened and Donnie stumbled in, calling, “
Help! Help me!
”

“Donnie!” Kristin yelled, shocked by his condition.

He looked like he’d been to hell and back. His face was streaked with blood and dirt. His arms and hands were covered with welts and scratches. His clothes were tattered and

torn from staggering through cactus and desert scrub.

Donnie took a couple more steps—but his legs gave out, and he spilled to the floor.

Sam and Tommy rushed over, lifted Donnie, and carried him to a corner booth in the diner. Kristin gently covered him with a blanket, then put a hand to her mouth and shook her head—overwhelmed by the sight of Donnie and what was happening.

Laura came over with a bowl and a damp towel and began to mop away the grime and blood that covered his face.

“What happened?” she asked, as Carla arrived with a glass of water and a first aid kit.

Donnie looked up at Laura. With a trembling hand he grabbed the glass of water and took a drink. Then he needed help placing it back on the table.

“Something, something horrible… Something horrible has happened up at the pool.”

“Big Caliente Hot Springs, you mean?” Sam asked.

Donnie nodded. Then his eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out, slumping against the wall in shock.

“Get his feet up,” Carla said.

“I’ll get another blanket,” Laura said. She squeezed Sam’s arm, giving him a concerned look, then went for the blanket.

Chapter 46

Karl Eller’s wrecker, a heavy-duty 4x4 International, climbed the steep pass that led to Big Caliente Hot Springs—and the world beyond Furnace Valley.

It was late morning, and the air temperature had already crossed the hundred-degree mark. Inside the cab, Karl was behind the wheel, Curley was seated in the middle, and Sam was on the far side, riding shotgun.

Sam reached out and flipped on a two-way radio, then grabbed the mic and keyed it. “This is Furnace Valley Towing, come back…”

Sam waited a minute. He was about to try again when Karl looked over and said, “Don’t waste your time, Sam. Signal won’t carry over the mountain.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. The thing came with the truck. Useless as tits on a boar.”

Curley reached up, tapped Sam’s shoulder, then in a soft voice said, “Sam…”

Ignoring him, Sam returned the handpiece to the dash, leaving the CB on just in case.

“
Sam
,” Curley insisted, his voice rising an octave or two.

“Jesus Curley,
what?
” he snapped.

Curley raised his hand. Then using just one finger, he pointed out Sam’s window.

Sam cranked his head over, looked out—and immediately saw what Curley was referring to.

It was a creeper stalk—huge and thick as a sewer line—snaking down the hill directly toward the road!

“Holy Christ!” Sam yelled, stunned by the size of the thing.

“What? What is it?” Karl asked, tightening his grip on the wheel.

“Over there. Hard right.” Sam pointed. “Moving down the hill.”

Karl leaned forward, looked past Curley—and saw the giant creeper, its thorns glinting in the sunlight as it snaked down the slope.

“Son of a bitch. Is that what I think it is?”

“It’s
huge
,” Curley blurted. “How? How can it be that big, Sam?”

“I’m guessing one of Doc’s clippings found some water. A
lot
of water.”

A moment later, the truck dropped over a rise—and, looming directly ahead, a towering knot of creepers rose off the desert floor in the shape of a fountain.

Primitive. Malevolent. It looked like something out of Greek mythology. Giant tentacles danced in the air—pulsing, throbbing, hissing—as it grew and grew and grew.

Karl jammed on the brakes and the truck skewed sideways, skidding to a halt on the hardpan.

The three of them remained in the cab, saucer-eyed, staring through the windshield at something the world had never seen before.

The cab filled with a loud
rasping
as stalks with giant thorns rose up from the creeper’s center, spilled outwards, and splashed onto the desert floor.

They opened their doors and cautiously emerged from the cab, all of them trying to get a better look at exactly where it was coming from. Then they heard a
hissing
like the sound of escaping gas. It was the sound of the creeper transferring water to its extremities.

“Makes the others look like houseplants,” Karl said in awe. “That big bastard’s gotta be sitting right on top of the hot springs.”

“All the water it needs,” Sam added grimly.

“I don’t like this, Sam,” Curley said, taking a step towards the truck.

“Keep it together, Curl,” Sam said in a low voice.

“
Wow
. Oh, wow…” Karl pointed. “Look at that!”

Sam and Curley turned and saw a matrix of creeper stalks knitting themselves around a high voltage tower and snaking out along the power lines.

“That’s what happened to the phones,” Karl said.

Sam nodded, then said, “At least the power’s still on.”

Just then there was a loud
pop!
and a white flash as the power lines arced, sending sparks cascading to the ground.

“Well, maybe not,” Sam said flatly.

“Come on, let’s go!” Curley said, his hand on the truck door. “That thing could be setting a trap, doubling back on us.” He yanked open the door and swung into the cab.

Sam was staring up at the pass. “
Jesus
…”

The main road leading up and out of Furnace Valley was now completely covered with undulating creeper stalks.

“The whole damn valley is sealed off,” said Sam as the creeper threw stalk after stalk across the road.

“Shut tight as a frog’s ass,” Karl said, shaking his head.

Chapter 47

Sam and Karl moved back to the wrecker—and, just as they were about to climb in, Sam heard a
girl’s voice
. It was muffled and distant. It echoed up from the canyon below. It sounded like she was calling for help.

“
Wait
,” Sam said. He moved past the truck and walked over to a dirt track that disappeared into the scrub. It was more of a deer path than a road—and it looked like it led right to the edge of the advancing creeper.

Shit
.

“What is it, Sam?” Karl asked.

Sam shushed him. “Listen.” There it was again—the muffled pleading of a girl’s voice. “
Help. Please, someone help me
…”

“Gotta be one of those kids who came in yesterday… the campers,” Karl said, straining to see where the voice was coming from.

Sam placed his hands around his mouth.

“
Hello!
Hey, we can hear you. Keep yelling. We’re coming.”

They waited. Then they heard the girl again—louder now, and with hope in her voice.

Sam was in the lead as he and Karl picked their way down the hill, hiked over a rise, then came to a stop when the path disappeared beneath a thicket of writhing creeper stalks.

From twenty yards out they could hear the girl’s voice loud and clear—but they still couldn’t see her.

They continued forward, a few feet at a time, ever-watchful for striking creeper arms, and then both of them froze when they saw—

Two yellow eyes peering out at them from inside the tangle of creepers.

Headlights.

A van’s headlights.

“
Hey!
Is that you? Are you in the van?” Sam yelled.

The horn began to honk in a series of short blasts.
Honk-honk-honk-honk
…

Then it stopped.

“Okay. We got you,”

The horn sounded again.
Honk. Honk
.

“Alright, sit tight. We’re going to get you out of there,” Sam said, trying to sound reassuring. “Honk if you understand.”

Honk
.

“Better turn your headlights off to save the battery.”

A moment later the headlights winked out.

Karl grabbed Sam’s arm. “Are you crazy? We can’t go near that thing.”

“Come on, Karl—there’s no time.” Sam started back up the trail. “I’ve got everything we need back in the truck.”

Chapter 48

Sam opened a door on the side of the wrecker’s utility box and pulled out a duffle bag.

“What the heck is that?” Karl said, huffing up behind Sam.

“An insurance policy.” Sam unzipped the bag. “Or,
Plan B
as I like to think of it.”

“Plan B?” Karl gave Sam a look that said,
I don’t have a clue
.

“Right. Plan B. As in B for
bonfire
.”

Curley dropped out of the cab, feeling safer now that Sam had returned. “What are you talking about? Nobody said anything to me about a Plan B.”

“That’s because the only thing you ever hear is what comes out of your own mouth, Curley.” Sam reached into the bag and removed a can of gasoline, jars, and torn strips of cotton rag.

“That’s not true, Sam,” Curley protested. “I always got one ear to the ground.”

“Right,” said Sam in a skeptical tone. He turned to Karl. “Go ahead, Karl. Tell Curley about Plan B.”

Karl looked at Curley, scratched his chin. “Near as I can tell—the B stands for
bullshit
.”

“
Bullshit my ass
.” Sam grabbed the can of gasoline and shoved it into Curley’s hands. “Fill these halfway with gas, Curl.”

Curley took the gasoline, lined up the jars, and began to fill them.

Meanwhile, Sam reached into the truck, retrieved one of the Grogan’s Super Soakers, and held it up for Karl to see. “Instant flamethrower.”

Karl looked at it and shook his head.

“A
squirt gun?
Okay, it’s official. The plan
is
bullshit.”

“You’ll see.” Sam knelt next to Curley. He took the strips of cloth, inserted one end into the filled jars, then replaced the lids.

* * *

Sam, Karl, and Curley approached the creeper. All of them were amazed to see it had increased a third again in size during the short time they were gone.

“Is it my eyes—or does that thing look bigger?”

“It’s your eyes,” said Sam. “Now help me find those headlights.”

He moved forward cautiously. “Hello in the van! We’re back. If you can hear me—flash your headlights.”

They waited. Nothing—no lights—no sign that she was still alive.

* * *

Just then, inside the van, Maya screamed as the rear window cracked and shattered, the safety glass fragmenting into hundreds of opaque pellets. She dropped low in the driver’s seat and began to toggle the light switch back and forth, praying they’d see her.

“Help me! Please hurry…”

* * *

Sam was about to yell again when the headlights snapped on—then began to flash. But they were harder to see now, buried deep within the burgeoning creeper.

Karl and Curley lined the jars up next to Sam, arranging them in a neat row for easy access.

Sam tossed Karl a gas lighter, then faced the creeper and yelled to Maya.

“Okay, can you start the engine?”

There was a long silence—then the sound of a whining starter motor. The engine caught and roared to life.

“We’ll mark that down as a
yes
,” said Sam, grabbing the Super Soaker.

“Alright, when I say
floor it
, drop it into gear and hit the gas. And don’t stop till you’re in the clear. Then he added, “Honk twice if you understand.”

Honk. Honk
.

“Go time,” Sam said, as he turned to Karl and Curley. “Okay guys, light the jars—and on my signal, throw them as far into that thing as possible.”

Sam pumped the handle of the Super Soaker, pressurizing the gasoline he’d added earlier. He adjusted his grip on the gun, then advanced towards the creeper. When he was about ten yards out, he raised the Super Soaker and began to coat writhing tentacles with a thick stream of gasoline, waving the barrel back and forth like a lawn sprinkler.

After half the gasoline was drained, he scrambled back and yelled for Karl and Curley to throw the jars.

“
Now!
”

With flaming jars in their hands, Karl and Curley rushed forward and hurled the jars, sending them up and over the mass of boiling creeper arms.

Two seconds later the first jar exploded—and the crown of the creeper erupted in a giant fireball, filling the air with thick black smoke.

Sam charged up, raised the Super Soaker, and began to hose down writhing creeper arms. Using the gun like a flamethrower, he picked up flames and looped lines of fire across the entire organism.

When the Super Soaker ran dry, Sam dropped it, raised his head, and yelled at the top of his lungs, “
Floor it!
”

Above the roar of the flames, they heard the engine scream, then redline, as—

The camper van exploded out from the inferno in a spray of burning creeper stalks, sending flames sheeting across the ground like napalm.

The three of them were forced to dive out of the way as the van blasted past, its roof ablaze with gas-soaked creeper arms. The van rocketed forward three hundred feet, then lurched violently sideways as Maya braked, skidding to a stop in a cloud of dust and smoke.

Sam raced up to the driver’s door, reached for the handle, touched it—and yanked his arm back. After covering his hand with the cuff of his shirt, he pulled the door open, and Maya—sweat-soaked, white as a sheet, and slipping in and out of consciousness—slumped into his arms.

Karl ran up and joined Sam. Working together, they lifted Maya out of the van—pulling her clear just as the camper’s gas tank let go, lifting the rear wheels off the ground and engulfing the vehicle in flames.