I Hunt Down Creatures Escaped from Secret Labs | Part 1
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The truck rocks as it comes to a stop. I slam the shifter into park and stare out the windshield, looking up toward the dark treetops. Night sounds emanate from the surrounding forest, flowing into the truck through the open windows. "Where is it?" I ask. "I lost it," Talavera says from the passenger seat, still clutching the specially made spear gun in his hands. "Redmon, you see any sign of it over there?" I ask.

"Nope," Redmond says in my ear. "You guys had it last. Must be over there somewhere. Watch your ass." "Damn," I say, looking out at the fallen tree across the road. "We won't be going any farther in the truck." "What do we do?" Talavera asks. "What do you think?" I say, recognizing a teaching moment when I see one. Talavera, a 24-year-old, dark-haired man with the patience of a monk, sets the spear gun across his thighs.

He reaches into the back and retrieves a pair of night vision goggles. I shake my head. "What happens when it lights up? We'd go blind." "Oh, right," he says, looking defeated. There's a loud fluttering sound from outside, and the forest brightens as if someone turned a spotlight on. Squinting, I look up through the windshield and see the creature fly over us, its giant glowing abdomen fading from sun-bright to moon-bright before it goes completely dark again.

I grab the spear gun from Talavera's lap and lean out my open window with it. I can no longer see the creature because it's not glowing anymore and my night vision is momentarily gone, but I pray it's flying in a straight line as I pull the trigger. The spear shoots out of the weapon, trailing the thin, high tensile line out behind it. I wait, holding my breath. Then there's a loud screech from the creature. "Got it!" I say, already climbing out the window.

I'm no longer as quick or limber as I once was, and I lose my grip on the top of the truck, tumbling out and slamming the back of my shoulders and head into the dirt road. You okay, Coggins? Talavera asks, shifting over into the driver's seat. I'm fine, I say, getting to my feet. The line is still coming out from my weapon, and if I don't get the end of it secured, we might lose the creature in the forest. I clamber into the truck bed. Get ready to reverse when I say. Got it.

I worked the two levers, detaching the line reeling mechanism from the weapon. I dropped the gun portion and then take the loop from the end of the line and cinch it around the hook in the middle of the truck bed. Redmon installed the hook himself, attaching it to the truck's frame for this very purpose.

As the line continues to go out, I open the metal toolbox in the truck bed and pull out a semi-automatic rifle. "Reverse! Reverse!" I call out, sitting down next to the hook just as the wire goes taut. The truck lurches forward as the creature yanks on the line. We nearly go slamming into the fallen tree, but Talavera hits the gas in time and the wheels dig in. We move backwards a few feet, playing tug-of-war with the massive creature.

Its abdomen lights up again, and I spot the thing about a hundred yards away, near the distant treetops. Its wings beat at the air, and it screeches as it tries to free itself. Come on, come on, you big bastard, I say, aiming through my red dot sights. It's moving around too much, so I don't waste my ammo. Not yet, Redmon says over the radio, having heard all the commotion thus far. It's gonna be over by the time you get here, I growl.

The creature's abdomen has been lit constantly for the last several moments. I'm guessing because it's pissed off and injured. The truck has reversed about 20 feet from the fallen tree as Talavera keeps his foot on the gas, fighting the creature. Suddenly, the line goes slack and the truck lurches backward. "Stop!" I shout, even as I see the creature swooping toward us in the sky.

Talavera doesn't stop. He keeps reversing, making it harder for me to get a bead on the creature. But the thing is getting closer. Its multi-segmented mouth opens as it produces another screech. The hardest steel mouth segments are long and sharp, and there's four of them. A large one on top and three smaller ones on the bottom. It's almost as if the scientists who made it watched the movie "Tremors" and decided they wanted that head on a giant firefly.

and then they added a dash of scorpion or crab, giving the damn thing pincers. "Stop the truck!" I shout again as the creature closes the distance. Finally, Talavera hears me. He slams on the brakes. I go sliding back on my butt, hitting the tailgate with my back. A jolt of pain runs up and down my spine.

The creature lands on top of the truck cab with a shuddering thud. Wincing and barely recovered from my impact with the back of the truck, I raise my weapon and fire twice. The creature snaps its mouth shut, and the rounds careen off its protective armor. It reaches out for my neck with one huge pincer. At the last moment, I slid down and out of the way. The pincer snapped where my head was just a moment ago.

From my lying position, I aim at one of its eight spider-like eyes and fire more shots. The rounds puncture a few of its eyes, and it rears up, opening its mouth and screeching again. But because it's looking skyward, I have no shot into its mouth. Where the scientists said it's most vulnerable, I have to squint as its abdomen lights up as bright as the sun, washing all the color out of the world.

Afraid I'll accidentally hit Talavera in the cab, I stop firing for a moment, looking through slitted eyes from a half-turned head to keep an eye on the thing as best I can. It stops screeching and jumps down into the bed of the truck, its abdomen still blindingly bright. I have no choice but to keep firing at it. Talavera, duck! I shout just before I fire at its remaining eyes. The now blind creature screeches again, this time with its mouth pointed toward me.

I smile and think, "Gotcha now, you ugly son of a bitch." But when I pull the trigger, only one round fires into the mouth before my rifle clicks empty. It's not enough. All I've done is pissed the thing off, and I suddenly see, as the creature looms over me, that the scientists put a little xenomorph into this thing.

I feel like Ripley as a pair of glistening jaws protrude from inside the thing's mouth. Needle-like teeth shimmer with foul-smelling goop as it reaches for my fragile, and I would say handsome, face. "Not the face!" I say, trying to press myself into and through the bed of the truck. "Anywhere but the face! I want an open casket funeral!"

I blink on reflex as something rips through the second set of jaws, destroying the needle teeth. This time, the creature doesn't screech. It doesn't have time, because a second projectile rips through its mouth and blasts out the back of its insectile head, allowing me to see, for the briefest of moments, the light from its abdomen through the hole in its head.

As the sound of the two shots finally reaches me, one right after the other, the creature collapses on me. That awful goop, along with some other foul-smelling liquid, pours onto me as I squirm, trying to push the heavy thing off me. The light from its abdomen fades quickly, plunging the area back into darkness, except for the backsplash of light from the headlights. "Get this thing off of me!" I shout.

Behind my head, the tailgate opens and Talavera reaches in, grabbing me in the armpits and pulling me out. "You okay?" I ask as he helps steady me on arthritic joints that will be screaming at me after the adrenaline wears off. "I'm good," Talavera says. "Thanks." I wipe the goop off me as best I can while we stand behind the truck, looking at the dead creature. After a few moments, headlights appear behind us.

We both turn as Redmon and Cass arrive in the other truck. Redmon leaves the truck running as he steps out, putting his ubiquitous cowboy hat on as he exits the truck. He's a cowboy through and through, and he has the bow-legged walk to prove it. He wears a plaid shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots. Slinging his .50 caliber rifle over his shoulder with one hand, he digs a cigarette out of the soft pack in his breast pocket with the other.

He has the thing lit and is exhaling smoke by the time he reaches us. There is a smile on his rough face. "Thought I told you to watch your asses." Cass approaches a moment later with her own .50 cal slung over her shoulder. She doesn't dress like a cal girl, although I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if she started to one day. She wears joggers and hiking shoes, along with a hoodie. The front pocket is heavy with ammo for her rifle. "Guess I owe you two some thanks," I say.

"We took those shots from way back, through some trees," Cass says, out of breath with excitement. "It was a miracle we could even see you from that far. They were great shots," I say. "Saved my ass. Ain't the first time, won't be the last," Redmond says. "I don't think we're even quite yet," I tell him. "We've been keeping tally, and I'm still ahead by one, as far as I can remember."

By the time we finally retire, we'll be even," Redmond says with confidence, puffing on his cigarette. I nod solemnly, not wanting to think about that. "Well, I stink like the port-a-potties in hell, so let's get this thing back to those idiots so I can get a shower."

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We pull up to the gate of the research facility, which is disguised as a power plant. It doesn't take long for us to get through security. We've been expected. We're directed down to an underground loading bay, where I reverse the truck and pull up to the place indicated. Several men and women mull about, looking expectantly at us.

As usual, Cas and Redmon stay in their truck nearby, ready in case anything goes down. We've never had problems with any clients in the past, but that doesn't mean we never will. It pays to be prepared for these things. Talavera and I get out and remove the tarp we put over the dead creature in the back, revealing it to the small crowd. "You killed it?" one man in a white dress shirt and red tie asks, sounding on the verge of tears.

I told you when you hired us, there was an 80% chance we wouldn't bring it back alive, I said to the guy. You remember that? He doesn't acknowledge me. He just stares at the dead creature. All that work. Yeah, well, maybe next time. Don't let all that work escape. Then you wouldn't have to hire someone like me. An ex-military looking guy comes down from the loading bay and offers to shake my hand. I wouldn't shake it, I say. I got that thing's insides all over me.

The guy retracts his hand. The whiny scientist starts sobbing. "About the payment," I say. "Yes, of course," the military guy says, gesturing to a woman with a tablet. Once I see the payment and my account, and a forklift has gotten the creature out of the truck bed, we head back to the hotel. I get into the shower, savoring the feel of the hot water on my skin. When I get out, I look at the bruises forming on my back from when I slammed into the tailgate.

Then I lean on the counter and stare at myself, wondering when exactly my skin got so loose and wrinkly. I'm no spring chicken anymore, and Redmond's right. We need to retire. But goddammit, the thought of retiring feels like a death sentence to me. Maybe I should have let that thing snip my head off with its pincers. Stupid thought, I tell myself. I could no more have let that happen than I could stop flinching from a ball thrown at my face. It was automatic.

but I'm afraid of what I'll do when I lose my purpose and retire. Letting some bizarre creature kill you is not the same as putting a gun in your mouth. There's a pounding on my hotel room door, and I answer it in my towel. Talavera stands in the hallway. "We've got another call," he says. "And this one sounds really weird. Want me to drive for a bit?" Cass asks from the front passenger seat of the RV. "No, I'm good," I say, even though I'm exhausted.

Cass shrugs and leans back in her seat, closing her eyes again. Talavera is lying on the couch in the back of the RV, directly behind my seat. I can hear him snoring. We only have another two hours before we get there. I didn't get any sleep because we left the hotel immediately for this next call. Cass tried to convince me to not take this one, but I can't find it in me to turn work down, especially a case as weird as this one.

I look out the windshield at the truck Redmond is driving ahead of us. The other truck is hooked up to the back of the RV. This is usually how we travel around the country. Most of the secret labs we work for are in a fairly small radius in the Montana, Wyoming, North Dakota and South Dakota area. It's probably a good thing because they are not very populated areas. Our last job, where I nearly lost my head, was in Montana.

Now, we're heading for Wyoming. They wouldn't tell us much on the phone, but they said that they already had people out looking for the thing, and they only wanted us as backup. When we're in a time crunch, we sometimes take private planes, usually on the client's dime, but they said that wouldn't be necessary. They also said that the creature that escaped their lab is unique because it can cause hallucinations. When I pressed the guy on this, he said they would give us a full rundown when we arrived.

and it looks like we will get there around 7:00 AM. The steady hum of the engine and the constantly passing lines on the road lull me into a relaxed state. That, and the fact that I haven't slept at all. I shake my head, trying to wake up. My thoughts drift to Redmond and the way he's been acting lately. The only time he seems like himself is when we're actively chasing down a creature. Otherwise, he's sullen and silent.

At least more so than usual. Which is saying a lot, because he's a regular stoic most of the time. I can see the smoke billowing out the window of the truck ahead. He's been chain smoking, which is never a good sign for him. It means something's bothering him. Every time I've asked him about it, he's deflected. And he's damn good at that. If he were a goalie, he would be the best one to ever live. My thoughts drift again. The RV hums. Talavera snores.

I feel my eyelids getting heavier. I jerk up as the tires run over the rumble strip on the side of the road, only now realizing that I dozed off for a moment. Cass is up now, looking over at me. "Let me drive," she says. "Let her drive, Wes," Talavera says, clearly awake now, grumbling but knowing they're right. I flash Redmond three times to let him know I want to pull over. It doesn't take long to find a place to pull over next to a field.

Redmon gets out to take a leak, and Talavera does the same, while Cass and I switch seats. I can see Redmon and Talavera in a conversation, mostly one-sided, but I can't hear what's being said. A minute later, we're back on the road again. This time, Talavera sits between the two front seats. "What did he say to you?" I ask Talavera about his conversation with Redmon. "What do you think he said? Watch your ass!"

Cass, Talavera and I have a good laugh at that point. Once the laughter dies down, Talavera speaks without a hint of humor in his voice. "Have you figured out what's up with him yet?" I shake my head. "What about you?" he asks Cass. She snorts. "He probably talks to me less than he talks to you guys, and I'm with him twice as much." "Well, if you can't get him to open up, I don't think I'll be able to," I tell Cass. "You've known him for much longer than me."

"Yeah, but he's always at a soft spot for you," I tell her. "Could've fooled me," Cas says. "Believe me," I tell her. "Even if he doesn't tell you, he does love you in his own way." Cas and Talavera are silent for a long time. The miles pass under our tires. Of course, now that I'm not driving, I'm wide awake. I think about the time Redmond and I came across Cas and Talavera during one of our jobs in Death Valley.

They were just a couple of kids, 16 and 17. We weren't supposed to see them. One of the lab employees opened a door at the wrong time, and I saw them in a couple of cages in a dingy room. I pretended like I didn't see them until I could pull Redmon aside and tell him about it. To his credit, he didn't ask questions. He just said, "Well, let's get them the hell out of there." We had to do some serious damage to the lab employees and security officers to get them out,

But we did it. Apparently, the higher-ups didn't know that the subcontractors who ran the lab were using humans in their tests. Or at least, that's what they told us. They covered everything up and didn't press charges, knowing if they did, we would blow the whole thing wide open. Redmond and I looked after the kids for a couple of years before trying to set them up so they could live their own lives. But by then, we were like family and they didn't want to leave.

We let them stay and eventually started showing them the ropes. They've been valuable additions, especially since Redmond and I are both old men now and we won't be able to do this much longer, even if we wanted to. Now, as we cross over into Wyoming, Cass speaks for the first time in about 20 minutes. He would tell us if he was dying, right? I mean, he's been smoking a pack a day since I met him. That's going to catch up with him one day.

Maybe he got some bad news the last time we were at home. I open my mouth to say, of course Redmon would tell us, but it would be a lie. In fact, not telling us is exactly the kind of thing he would do. I don't know, I say finally. He might keep it to himself until he can't hide it any longer. That generates another 20 minutes of silence from Cass and Talavera. I lean my head against my backseat and try to sleep, but the sun is already coming up.

Before I know it, we're at the lab. Ford Pro FinSimple offers flexible financing solutions for all kinds of businesses, whether you're an electrician or run an organic farm. Because we know that your business demands financing that works when you need it, like when your landscaping company lands a new account. Wherever you see your business headed, Ford Pro FinSimple can help you pursue it with financing solutions today. Get started at FordPro.com slash financing.

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The first thing I notice about Dr. Mazur is his hands are soft and his nails have been bitten down to the nub. He's a good 10 years younger than me, although much grayer than I am. Then again, he has more hair than me, which means more to go gray. Mumbling, he leads us down the hall of the underground lab attached to the Buffalo Bill Dam in Western Wyoming.

All the secret labs are attached to or disguised as dams, power stations, or heavily guarded warehouses of some kind. But this is one we've never worked with before. One we've never even heard of, which is saying something. Redmond and I have been in the business for a long time, and we thought we knew all the labs. Dr. Mazur ushers us into a small room with a table in the middle and a whiteboard on one wall. Without asking, everyone but Mazur takes a seat.

The good doctor paces for a moment, chewing absently on a fingernail. Redmon clears his throat, and Mazur looks up. "Right," he says. His rodent-like eyes darted around at our faces. "Here's the thing. I just heard that our recovery team didn't make it." "Didn't make it?" I ask. "They're dead?" "That's right," Mazur says. "I think you better cut to the chase and tell us what we're dealing with here," Redmon says.

I understand you people have been doing this for a long time, but I highly doubt you've ever come across anything like this. What we've created is a, well, we call it an insanity bug. I roll my eyes. Doctors always think the creatures they've created are the most crazy, badass, insane things ever. But if they were, I wouldn't still be sitting here drawing in a breath. So what? Cass asks. It drives people insane?

Not permanently. At least not for most people. But yes, it causes hallucinations in a certain radius. What's the radius? I ask. A circle about a half mile in diameter, Mazur says, a certain fatherly proudness coming into his voice. Half a mile? Talavera says. Damn, and what kind of hallucinations are we talking about here? Like pink elephants and tracers and shit?

"Oh no," Mazur says, face growing drawn again. "It's different for everyone, but it's not like taking a drug. It's much more real than that. It preys on your weaknesses and makes you do things." "Like what kinds of things?" I ask. "It makes you kill your colleagues." As Mazur says this, he looks at his hands as if they're covered in blood. "Is that what happened?" I ask. "Did you kill your colleagues? Is that how it got out?"

Mazur drops his hands and looks at me. "We have a way to combat the hallucinations, but it's not designed to be mobile." "What is it?" "It's a series of devices that emit electrical waves, brainwaves, that combat the insanity bug's ability to cause hallucinations." "A series?" I ask. "How many are there?" "Three of them. I have a team working to make them mobile right now. As long as you keep them with you, the bug won't be able to affect your minds."

but all three of them have to be on otherwise their power is diluted what's the radius on these devices how close to them do we have to be within 20 yards he says redmon and i share a look and do you have any way to tell where the insanity bug as you call it is i ask him does it have a tracker he nods it does have a tracker

"How big is this thing? Is it really a bug?" Redmon asks. "It is a bug," Masher says. "But it's a large one. Have you ever seen a scorpion fly? Oh, those things are crazy looking," Talavera says with a shiver. "Totally harmless though," Cass says.

"I assure you, this one isn't totally harmless," Mazur puts forth. "And it's about the size of a large dog. Why do you guys always make your creations look so damn creepy?" Talavera asks rhetorically. "And why insects all the time? What's with that?" Mazur doesn't answer, and he just starts chewing on a fingernail. "Give us the electrical wave generators and a tracker," Renmont says, standing up. "We'll handle the rest."