CREEPERS (9 page)

Chapter 33

“Blossom! Blossom, get in there!” Curley yelled, trying to herd the sow into its pen.

Blossom tried one last end-run, but Curley darted left, blocking the way. Relenting, Blossom snorted, started into the pen, then suddenly bucked, twisted around—and shot to freedom between Curley’s legs.

Curley’s feet were knocked apart. He was stuck in the mud. Helplessly off balance, all he could do was wave his arms and watch as he fell into the wallow.
Splat
.

“Damn it, Blossom… ” Curley sat up, then yelled to the pig, “Go ahead! There’s nothing out there to eat. Nothing but sand and cactus.”

Ignoring him, Blossom trotted past a row of palms, then went straight up a sandy bank and stopped directly in front of the creeper Curley had planted yesterday.

Blossom sniffed the clipping, snorting up a cloud of sand. Then, using her nose, she rooted around the base, scooped it up, and gobbled it down.

The pig swung around, looked at Curley, shook her head up and down with delight, then trotted over to the water trough, plunged her snout in, and began to sop up the water.

Blossom continued to drink—and then she suddenly stopped, jerking her head up out of the trough.

Something was wrong
.

Blossom plowed straight back in a freakish movement that made her look like she was on wheels, did a 360, and then began to squeal at the top of her lungs.

The pig began to swell. It was like Blossom had suddenly been connected to an air hose. A moment after that, bumps appeared all over her back, moving in and out as if someone had crawled inside and was poking her with a stick.

The pig kept squealing. Her body began a series of unnatural twists and turns that would’ve given Linda Blair a run for her money. Then Blossom froze. She turned her head creepily sideways—and without warning—exploded into a creeper vine!

A pink mist floated above the pig as tendrils and creeper stalks sprung out in all directions, pouring out of every orifice.

Within seconds, what used to be a three hundred pound sow was a giant, undulating creeper, its stalks decorated with chunks of bloody pork.

Curley scrambled to his feet, horrified. “Jesus Lord,” he said in disbelief. “What in God’s name is it?”

He moved closer, trying to see just what had just happened to his pet pig. As he leaned in for a better look, the creeper snapped out, coiling one of its stalks around his boot.

“Shit!” Curley yelled, pitching back and spilling to the ground.

He looked down, then watched in horror as the creeper coiled tighter and tighter, its thorns slicing into the leather upper of his boot.

Curley boosted himself up, reached down, pulled on the laces—then, using his other foot, kicked the boot off, letting the creeper have it as he pulled his leg free.

Curley crab-walked back, jumped up, then watched in utter amazement as the creeper crushed and shredded his work boot.

What the hell?

“Okay. Alright. So you want to play it like that…”

Curley marched over to a tool shed, yanked open the door, and moments later stepped out holding a gas-powered Weed Eater with a metal chopping blade.

He moved toward the creeper and pulled the starter cord. The engine caught and sputtered, then stopped. Two more rapid pulls. Then, on the fourth try, the engine roared to life as the creeper poured a dozen arms into the water trough—and began to drink.

As the water flowed into the thing, the growth was freakish, spectacular, geometric. It voraciously emptied the trough, then sent tentacles out in all directions looking for more water—or whatever…

Curley revved the engine, pinning the throttle until the Weed Eater’s two-stroke engine was screaming, and—advancing in a shroud of blue smoke—drove the blade deep into a knot of flashing creeper stalks.

“Suck this! Suck this, you sick bastard!” Curley poured on the juice, a crazed look on his face.

The Weed Eater tore into the thing, slicing and dicing and sending bits of creeper cartwheeling through the air.

“Yeah!” Curley yelled with delight, screaming at the top of his lungs. “Bite this!”

He jerked the trimmer sideways, slicing a fat stalk in two. Then wheeling right, he took out another arm just before it reached the trough. As he sliced into a third stalk, the engine bogged and began to miss. The plug fouled. And then the Weed Eater quit, plunging the compound into silence.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of green. And then the machine was ripped from his hands.

Curley reeled back as the creeper coiled around the Weed Eater, bent the shaft, and broke it in two.
Snap!

“Son of a bitch!” Curley said, taking a step back. “What
is
it?”

And then, without warning, the freshly gorged creeper sent a stalk flashing out—caught Curley around the waist, flipped him off his feet—and began dragging him towards a hundred thirsty suckers.

“Jesus Christ!” Curley yelled, as he slid through the sand. “Help!”

Chapter 34

Kristin came running out of the house, looking very un-Goth-like in slippers and a pink robe. She raced to the tool shed, grabbed a machete, sprinted to Curley—and, with the machete raised over her head, yelled, “Fuck me!” as she brought it down, severing the creeper arm and freeing Curley.

Just to be sure, she slashed down again.
Thwack. Thwack. Thwack
. “Ugly fucking weed!”

Curley rolled free and wobbled to his feet. He stared at Kristin, the machete slung at her side. Then in wide-eyed disbelief, he said, “You just saved my life.”

Kristin stared at the creeper, watching its medieval-looking arms writhing on the ground. “What the fuck
is
that?” Kristin said.

Then both their heads flicked towards the gate as Sam’s pickup came roaring up and pulled to a stop directly in front of them.

“Get back!” Sam yelled, dropping out of the cab, shocked by the sight of another writhing creeper—this one next to his house! He ran to Curley and Kristin, pulling them over to the truck as Laura climbed out.

“You guys okay?” Sam asked, seeing how shaken Curley was.

Curley nodded. “I’m okay. But it got Blossom. Jesus... Sam.”

“If this is a date orchard… then what the hell is that?” Kristin asked, pointing at the creeper.

“A bad idea,” Sam said, thinking about Doc and his creeper experiment.

The sound of rending metal filled the compound.

All heads snapped up. They watched as the creeper crushed the trough like an empty soda can and spread across the ground like a cancer.

“I ain’t never seen nothing like that,” said Curley, still rattled. “It’s like really bad Bermuda grass… on crack.”

“It’s identical to the one we just saw at the Fletcher place,” Laura said, staring at the writhing green mass. “How is that possible?” Then she added, “It’s got to be some mutation. A genetic freak.”

“That’s exactly what it is,” said Sam. “A genetic freak. Doc Fletcher created it. Named it the
Fletcher Creeper
. Claimed he’d invented the ultimate drought-tolerant plant.”

Laura considered that. “Yep, from what I’ve heard, that sounds like dad.”

Curley looked at Laura, his mind turning, trying to make the connection. And just as he was about to comment…

“Look,” Kristin said, pointing at the creeper. “It’s trying to locate something.”

They all watched as tendrils rose up from a creeper arm and began to
sniff
the air.

Chapter 35

“The date palms!” Sam yelled.

And with that, a creeper stalk wriggled across the sand, looped onto a palm, and began to snake its way up the trunk. When it was halfway up, it stopped and plunged its tip into the palm. Then hundreds of little suckers burrowed into the trunk and began to drain the fluids out of its pulpy flesh.

“Incredible,” Laura said. “It’s completely predatory, voracious for fluids.” She glanced down at her leg, adding, “
Any
kind of fluids.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, then he thought to himself,
Leave it to Doc
.

Behind them, the air filled with the chilling sound of something
scratching
across a metal surface. And then like a drill team, they all wheeled in unison—and saw a creeper stalk probe the water storage tank, looking for a way in.

At the top of the tank there was a sudden
clank, clank, clank
. A creeper stalk had slithered up the back side and was trying to slip beneath the metal hatch on top.

“Jesus! The water supply!” Sam leapt forward and sprinted to the tanker truck, which was parked next to the water storage tank.

“Sam! No! Stay away from that thing!” Laura yelled.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?!” added Kristin, tightening her grip on the machete.

Laura turned to Kristin, frowned, and gave her a look that said:
Nice language
.

“
What!
” Kristin said, giving her a look right back.

“I’m not giving up my ranch!” Sam yelled, then stopped in his tracks when a giant stalk slammed down, blocking his path.

Sam held his breath and stood frozen as a statue. The tip of the creeper rose in the air, moving this way and that,
sniffing
, trying to locate him.

“My God! Sam!” Laura yelled, thinking he was done for.

Sam remained perfectly still and thought to himself,
The only way to get to the truck is up and over that thing
.

He took a breath, measured the distance between himself and the creeper, crouched—then sprang up, vaulting cleanly over the bristling stalk, tumbled onto the sand, regained his footing, and sprinted for the truck.

Sam skidded up to the tanker, slipped along the driver’s side, hauled open the door, climbed in, and—just as he shut the door, a creeper stalk sailed through the air and slammed into it.
Thud
.

Creeper leaves tinkled across the hood like falling snow.

Sam turned the key, then felt another creeper bang off the side of the truck and hit the ground.
Jesus Christ, what is this thing?!

He mashed down on the starter. Nothing, only the dull
click-click-click
of brushes unable to make contact.

Shit!

He raised his foot, then drove it hard onto the starter, praying it would catch this time. More
clicking
… and then the thing died completely.

* * *

“Hang on, Sam!”

He jerked his head up—and there in the rearview mirror was Curley! Sam watched as he raced towards the tanker, hammer in hand, then disappeared beneath the truck.

A moment later, he heard the
tap, tap, tap
, of the hammer striking the starter, trying to coax it back to life.

Sam waited, eyes skyward, and then stood on the starter. The cab filled with a loud grinding sound, and a second after that, the roar of the Cummins diesel flooded the compound.
Way to go, Curley!

“Yes!” Sam revved the engine, letting the turbocharger scream.

The passenger door was yanked open, and a dusty, grimy Curley tumbled into the cab.

Sam raised a hand. They bumped fists. “Way to go, Curl! That was balls-up.”

“Maybe now you’ll fix that damn thing,” Curley said. But Sam could tell he was proud as hell of himself.

Sam dropped it into gear. The truck rumbled forward. He added power, jammed it into second, then reached down and pulled a lever.

At the rear of the truck, twin jets of water shot out from the bottom of the tank.

Sensing the new source of water, the creeper retracted its stalks. Then, like some ancient sea creature, it peeled its tentacles off the water storage tank, heaved up, and sent eight deadly sucker arms whistling through the air after the tanker.

Sam slowed, looked in the mirror, and watched as the creepers raced after them. He continued another twenty yards, then stopped, letting the greedy suckers catch up and attach themselves to the rear of the truck and begin to drink.

Chapter 36

Sam killed the engine and looked at Curley. “Okay, we’ve got to get to the main water tank. We’ve got to blow the valves.
All of them!
”

“But, Sam…” Curley protested. “That’s exactly what that thing wants!”

“Just do it, Curley. It’s our only chance to save the ranch.”

“Yeah, sure Sam. Okay…”

“On the count of three, we make a run for the tank.”

Curley gave him a dubious look, then nodded okay.

“Here we go… One, two—”

And on
three
, they slammed open their doors, dropped to the ground, and ran hell for leather towards the storage tank.

Sam got there first, fell on the primary valve, and began to open it, his hands becoming a blur as he spun the valve. Water flooded around Curley’s boot as he rushed up to Sam.

“Curley, get the drain at the rear. I’m going up top to open the hatch. It should increase the flow.”

Curley hustled around the base of the tank and opened the secondary valve.

Sam leapt onto the ladder, scrambled to the top of the tank, worked his way to the hatch, and then popped it open.

“Sam!” Laura yelled, not believing what she was seeing. “Are you out of your fucking mind? Get off there!”

Kristin whipped her head around at Laura, giving her the same disapproving look that Laura had given her earlier.

Laura stared back, shrugged.
So
…

Sam jumped on the ladder, then came down it like a fireman on a pole and grabbed Curley. As water pooled around the base of the tank, they sprinted across the sand, rejoining Laura and Kristin at the side of the compound.

Chapter 37

As the last drops of water drained from the tanker truck, a malevolent rasping filled the air. They looked over and watched as the creeper freed itself from the truck, its swollen stalks dropping off the tank like ticks from a dying animal.

As each arm thudded to the ground, it snapped around, then went skittering across the sand, ready to gorge on the fresh supply of water pooling around the main storage tank.

“It’s working,” said Sam, as thirsty creeper stalks raced to the tank, preparing to feed.

“Are you crazy?!” Laura looked at Sam. “That’s
exactly
what it wants.”

“No, look…” He pointed to the ground around the tank.

They all watched as the water pooled, but just as quickly disappeared beneath the sand.

“The ground is like a sieve around here. By the time that thing repositions itself—most of the water will be history.”

“Man, look at that mother go,” said Curley, saying what they were all thinking. Creeper stalks encircled the tank like a squid’s tentacles around a clam. And then began to drink.

“Come on,” Sam said, motioning to everyone. “We don’t have much time.”

“What about the palms, Sam?” Curley said.

Sam looked over at the rows of stately palms and frowned. “There’s nothing we can do. There’s no stopping this thing. But at least it doesn’t have access to more water.”

He waved to the group. “Come on.” With Sam in the lead, they fell into a line and trotted over to the tanker truck. Sam grabbed Laura’s hand, boosted her into the driver’s side, then jumped in after her as Curley and Kristin scrambled around to the passenger’s door.

A shrill
squawk
erupted across the compound. Darwin swooped down, landing on a storage rack bolted to the roof of the tanker.

Curley got his hand on the door and pulled, but it was stuck. He yanked again and again—but it wouldn’t budge.

And then directly behind them, a whistling sound…

“Come on! Open it!” Kristin yelled, anxiously hopping up and down.

There was a
thud
. Kristin wheeled. Not ten feet away, a creeper stalk raced directly towards her, thorns brisling.

“Son of a bitch!” Curley yelled, jumping up on the truck’s kick. Then using both hands, he hauled on the door again.

In the cab, Laura leaned over and banged on the door from the inside.

One last mighty pull, and the door popped open. Curley swung out and grabbed Kristin’s hand. As he pulled her inside, the creeper shot up, wrapping around his ankle.

“Jesus!” Curley yelled, feeling thorns bite into his skin through the coveralls. And just before Curley was pulled from the side of the truck and turned into a human Slurpee—

Kristin yelled, “Fuck me!” Then sliced down with the machete, cleanly severing the stalk and freeing Curley.

Curley leapt in next to Kristin and slammed the door. Sam cranked up the diesel, the starter motor working perfectly this time.

There was another high-pitched sound, then a
thump
, as a creeper stalk dropped across the hood, glanced off the windshield, then made a hideous sound as it scraped along the side of the tanker.

In perfect unison, they all yelled, “
Shit!
”

Sam jammed the truck into gear and dropped the hammer. The truck jumped forward and roared towards the exit…

A moment later, there was another
thump
as the truck bumped up and over something and bogged down…

A massive creeper slid around the rear axel, coiled, and began to slow the truck!

Sam eased off on the gas. He reached down, slipped the deuce and a half into six wheel drive, dropped it into low, then stood on the gas. Black smoke shot up from the truck’s twin stacks. The turbo charger screamed—and as the powerful diesel wound up, the front rose, straining against the load.

The creeper coiled tighter, stretched to its limit. There was a tearing sound, then a loud
snap!
The stalk parted and the tanker rocketed forward, shot out through the entrance gate, and sent Darwin leaping into the air.

Inside the cab, everyone let out their breath with a sigh of relief, glad to be free of the thing. Darwin settled back on the roof as Sam backed off the gas, letting the truck find a safe track on the road.

“My God,” said Laura. “What has my father done?”