I Hunt Down Creatures Escaped from Secret Labs | Part 2
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Four years. That's how long it took Democrats to ruin our economy and plunge our southern border into anarchy. Who helped them hurt us? Ruben Gallego. Washington could have cut taxes for Arizona families, but Ruben blocked the bill. And his fellow Democrats gave a bigger break to the millionaire class in California and New York. They played favorites and cost us billions. And Ruben wasn't done yet.

We'll be right back.

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We might need air support, Redmon says over the radio. This goddamn thing keeps moving west. You guys better watch your ass with this one. We're back in the trucks, speeding down Highway 20, having left the RV back at the lab. The sun is now high in the sky behind us, the morning in full swing. Craggy mountains border the road at a distance on both sides, creating a broad valley as we head west. I'll see what I can do.

Dr. Mazur says over the radio. We've given him an earpiece so he can help us out if we need it. West, I say, sitting in the passenger seat while Talavera drives. I have my massive mug filled with coffee from the lab, and I drink it as fast as I can. I need my wits about me for this one. Isn't there something west of here? Something important? Oh shit, Talavera says, eyes wide. Yellowstone National Park. Oh fuck.

Redmon says over the radio. "There's people there this time of year." "Just how smart is this thing?" I ask. "Could it be heading to Yellowstone on purpose?" There is radio silence for a few long moments. "Mazur, you there?" "Yes, I'm here." He says. "And the answer is yes. We hoped to engineer it so it would only target certain individuals, but we haven't quite done that yet. What we have done is make it so it targets people, especially large groups."

Why the hell didn't you tell us this before? Cass asks over the radio, sounding more like Redmon than she probably realizes. I'm sorry. I thought our team would be able to take care of it. But you sent them out without the brainwave emitters or whatever they are, didn't you? I ask. They weren't ready yet, Masher says. We had no choice. You sent them out to get slaughtered to buy some time, Redmon growls. Yet you told us a plane wasn't necessary, that half the time if you had only sprung for a

"But the dollar counters probably wouldn't let you, would they? Goddamn fuckers, now people are going to get killed!" Masher doesn't answer, but I think I hear him sobbing, just what we needed. "Wait, it stopped!" Talavera says, pointing to his phone. We're using an encrypted app made by the lab to track the thing, and we each have it downloaded onto our phones. But since Talavera is driving, his phone is the one in the little holder.

I pull my phone out and zoom in. Seeing that he's right, the little red dot that represents the creature has stopped, but my stomach drops when I see where it stopped. It's a place called the Pahaska TP Resort, and it's just a couple of miles up the road. I glance over at the speedometer and see we're doing 85, but I can see Redmond's truck slowing ahead because we're coming up on another vehicle on the two-lane highway.

We need to hurry, I say over the radio. It stopped at a resort. God knows what's happening there right now. Noticed, Redmon says, swerving around the van up ahead once the oncoming lane is clear. Talavera does the same, and soon we're doing 100 miles an hour. I'm turning the brain protector on, I say. It's easier than saying electrical wave emitters or whatever Masher called them.

I unbuckle and turn in my seat, reaching back to the three devices that look like mid-sized speakers for a concert. I flip them on, along with the portable battery device they're attached to with black cords. When I sit back in my seat, I set my watch and say, "We've got 15 minutes before we have to switch the battery." They gave us two battery packs, giving us 30 minutes total before we're shit out of luck. Hopefully we can find a way to charge one battery pack while we use the other one.

I've got a charger in the truck, but it'll take forever to charge them back up without a wall outlet. "Okay, they're on," I say. "Stay within 20 yards of our truck and watch your backs. There's no telling what people will do under the influence of this thing, but the primary goal is to find it and destroy it." "Doc said the tracker should be good to within 30 feet, so keep a lookout," Cass says. We round a bend in the road and bring the resort into view.

It's a collection of log cabin-style buildings of various sizes on a flat property dotted with pine trees. Small, tree-covered mountains provide the backdrop for the quaint getaway just off the right side of the highway. But when we're still a hundred yards off, I can see that some damage has already been done. There's a two-story main building that I'm guessing houses the front desk and restaurant.

A truck has been smashed into the front doors, and there's smoke billowing out from the back of the building. I see a figure standing on the top of the A-frame roof. It's a man, and he's covered in blood. When we're still a good 60 yards out, he throws himself off the roof and into the parking lot below, landing face-first on the pavement. A glance at my phone shows me the creature is near the back of the property.

We slow down just enough to turn into the resort, heading down through the paved parking lot and down a dirt road that leads to the cabins on the property. In his haste, Redmon gets ahead of us, going farther than 20 yards. "Keep up with him!" I say, knowing Redmon won't be the one to ease off when it's crunch time like this. Talavera puts his foot down and gets closer to the other truck while I gaze out the window, one hand on the rifle propped between my feet and the other on my phone.

Dead bodies lie around the property, many of them mutilated. Screams and animalistic grunts sound from all around the property. We come upon a woman grimacing madly as she strangles a young boy next to one of the cabins. As we get within 20 yards, she suddenly stops, pulling her hands away from the crying child in shock. I turn to watch her as we pass. Her crazed grimace falls away as she looks around and cries out in anguish.

When the truck is more than 20 yards away, she lunges back at the child and starts strangling him again, the sneer back on her face again. I think about taking a shot at her to save the boy, but it's too late for that. Besides, the kid would probably just kill himself a minute later. I shake my head and mutter, "Who could create such a monster?" Of course, the answer is easy: contractors working for the United States government.

I'm sure there are similar programs in other developed countries around the world. The road dead ends next to a couple of cabins and we come to a halt, all of us jumping out of our vehicles. Judging by the map on my phone, we should be right on top of the thing.

"Where the hell is it?" Cass asks from up ahead. She's holding a semi-automatic rifle like mine, but Redmon has his .50 cal in hand, just in case the creature flies off and he has to take a long shot. "It should be here," I say. "Talavera and Cass, look inside the cabins, but don't go any farther than that." While the two young bloods go to the nearest cabin, Redmon and I scan the trees, looking for the thing.

We go in opposite directions, staying within 20 yards of my truck so we don't go crazy. Soon, Talavera and Cass come out of the first cabin, looking ill but shaking their heads. "Not in there, just a massacred family," Cass says as they move to the other one. The rev of an engine draws my attention, and I look over my shoulder to see a police SUV bearing down on me. I can see the cop through the windshield. He wears a crazed scowl just like the woman we passed.

I'm right at the 20-yard mark from my truck, so I know the cop is under the influence of the creature that's still hiding around here somewhere. Instead of shooting, I jump out of the way, rolling painfully behind a tree just as the SUV passes. It's a dumb thing to do. I should have shot him. He's going so fast that the device doesn't have time to take effect, and he crashes right into the back of my truck, which slams into the back of Redmond's.

The sound of rending metal and shattering glass seems to last a long time. But I soon realize that it's not the crash that's lasting a long time. It's in my head. The impact must have jarred the device, and now the hallucinations are starting. While I still have my right mind, I get up and sprint for the truck. Reconnecting the device is our only hope now. But as I close in, I start to lose myself as the creature invades my head.

Blinding anger surges into my mind, screwing my face up into a tortured scowl. Before I realize what I'm doing, I raise my rifle and point it at Redmon on the other side of the wreck. I'm convinced he means to kill me. I can see his intentions clearly in my head, like I'm watching them on a screen. But Redmon isn't aiming his rifle at me. He's gripping his head in one hand, his rifle held in the other. Blinking, I shake my head, remembering what I was trying to do.

"The device! Get to the device!" With some effort, I lower my rifle and resume my stumbling walk to the truck. As I get closer, the driver's door of the police SUV opens and a demon lurches out. As he looks at me, his black eyes grow into dark pools while his mouth stretches out underneath them. Its fangs extend and drip blood.

I raise the rifle again, but the vision ebbs, and the demon face is gone, replaced with a man's face. He's just a man, with blood leaking from a gash on his head. I try to dodge around the policeman to get to my truck, but he lunges for me, suddenly shouting,

I smack him in the head with the butt of my rifle and get to the truck. The front and back took the brunt of the impacts, so I'm able to open the driver's side door and climb inside. In the back, I see that two of the three speaker-like components are still plugged into the battery. The impact threw them against the front seats and caused one of them to come unplugged. The device is still working, although at two-thirds capacity. I quickly plug the third one in and look at my watch. There's just over eight minutes of battery power left.

As I climb back out of the truck, I glance over and see Redmon scanning the area with his rifle. "You good?" I ask. "Almost shot you," he says without looking at me. "Glad I didn't." I realize I lost my phone. I must have dropped it when jumping out of the way of the speeding police SUV. "Is the beast still around?" I ask. Redmon looks at the ground, where I'm guessing his phone is. "Yeah, according to this stupid tracker, it's nearby. Should be right over there."

He points with his rifle to the woods east of the two cabins. I scan the area but see nothing. I'm distracted when a cabin door opens as Cas and Talavera come out, looking dazed. "That was close," Cas says. "I've never felt anything like that before. I was so angry." "Focus," I say. "It's still out." A gunshot sounds, and Talavera twitches, then collapses to the ground.

I look toward the source of the shot and see a man with a hunting rifle about 60 yards behind us, back toward the front of the resort. Before I can decide what to do, Redmond's .50 cal booms out nearby, and a giant hole appears in the shooter's chest. I glance over at Redmond, who works the bolt to load another massive cartridge into the chamber. We better hurry the hell up before I have to do that again!

I get over my shock and remember Talavera. "Cover us!" I shout, running over to join Cas, crouching next to the young man. "He got my lung," Talavera whispers. "Let us see," Cas says, gently pulling his hand away from the wound. We both look at it, and then at each other, as Cas clamps a hand down over the wound to prevent air from getting into his chest cavity and collapsing the lung. "It's on the move," Redmon calls from nearby.

Cass and I roll Talavera onto his injured side, so gravity will help keep the lung from collapsing. I also feel for an exit wound. There is one just under his right shoulder blade. "It's going west!" Redmon calls. "Headed for Yellowstone, probably. We need to get going!" "What about that air support measure?" I ask.

There's no answer. "Major, you there?" Still no answer. "Goddammit!" As I run over to the truck to grab a first aid kit, I see Redmon turning his truck around. The rear bumper is damaged, but otherwise it's in good shape. I get back over to Talavera and Cass, opening the first aid kit. Meanwhile, Redmon pulls up next to my truck and proceeds to load up the brainwave device.

I'm taping a bandage to Talavera's exit wound when Redmon stops the truck nearby. "Let's go," he says. "Cas, you take care of her. We'll call an ambulance." "I'm not leaving him," I say. "If we don't stop this thing, more people are gonna die," Redmon says, lighting a cigarette and looking as calm as ever. "Go," Cas says. "We got this. Tal will be all right. Isn't that right, Tal?"

Sure thing, Cass. Talavera gasps. Bright as rain. Go. Stop that thing before it kills more people. I look into Talavera's eyes for a long moment and then reach into his pocket and grab his phone. Then I gather up my rifle and jump into the truck with Redmon. He peels out before I can say a proper goodbye. Ford Pro Fin Simple offers flexible financing solutions for all kinds of businesses, whether you're an electrician or run an organic farm.

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Once I get the device plugged into the new battery, granting us another 15 minutes of immunity, I face forward in my seat and scan the sky for any sign of the thing. According to Talavera's phone, it should be straight ahead. I see it! I shout over the high hum of the truck engine, pointing out the windshield at the small dot in the distance.

The creature is flying about a hundred feet above the highway, heading due west. I set Talavera's phone down and lean out the window with my rifle, aiming through my red dot sight at the thing. I don't fire. It's too far away. "Go faster!" I say. "If we crash, all those people in Yellowstone are fucked!" Redmon says. "Maybe Kevin Costner can save them."

Wanna try shooting my 50? Redmon asks. Before I can answer, Redmon swerves around a passenger van, nearly dumping me out the window. Give me a little warning before you do that, I say, still keeping the creature in my sights. And I doubt even you could make this shot with your precious overkill rifle. Why don't you think it diverts? Redmon asks, as we whip by a sedan going the opposite direction. Why does it stay above the road? I drop back into the vehicle, knowing I don't have a shot at it.

Not unless we get closer. I think about Redmond's questions, and the answer comes to me as I see an approaching SUV suddenly swerve to straddle the center line on the two-lane highway. Never mind, Redmond says. I know why. Better hold on.

"It's trying to kill us," I say. "It knows we're hunting it. It's smart." "No shit." Redmon has slowed down, but the SUV is barreling toward us, doing 80 or more. He lets the truck drift to the right, and we watch as the SUV moves, staying in front of us. The distance is closing now, and fast. "What are we doing?" I ask, racing for impact.

At the last moment, Redmon jerks the steering wheel to the left, and the SUV scrapes along the right side of the truck. Something hits me in the chest, and I close my eyes on reflex. I open them a moment later to see that we're still alive and still on the road. I look back to see the SUV rolling in the street, one of its passengers flying out a window like a ragdoll. The side mirror is in my lap. That's what hit me in the chest as the SUV snapped it off and sent it through the open window.

I toss the mirror into the back and say, "That was fucking close! I hate to tell you this, but I doubt we'll be able to do that again!" I look ahead and see another minivan bearing down on us, skirting the center line just like the SUV. Redmon turns and gazes at me for a moment. I know what I have to do, but I don't like it. "This is so fucked!" I climb up and lean out the window again. This time, I ignore the small dot in the sky that must be slightly less than a half mile away.

Instead, I aim at a front tire on the approaching van. I take the shot and miss. "You got this!" Redmon says. "Breathe!" The van is about 90 yards away now and closing fast. I notice that Redmon is speeding again, but I can't let it bother me. I need to focus.

I squeeze the trigger again, and the tire explodes. The van swerves as the driver struggles to control the vehicle. Redmon maneuvers past it with relative ease. There's barely time to take a breath before I see a lifted truck speeding toward us. We can't keep doing this, I say. It won't run out of vehicles, not before it gets to Yellowstone. Then it can just send waves of people at us. We'll have to kill dozens or hundreds before we can get to the thing. Either that, or just let it go, Redmon grunts.

We're in agreement, but I'm not hearing any bright ideas from him. "Just take care of this one. I got a plan," he says. I aim at the lifted truck tire and take the shot. The tire deflates slightly, slowing the truck down. But it doesn't go flat. There's some kind of fancy anti-flat tires. We're getting close. If I don't do something, we're both dead.

"God help me!" I say, shifting my aim up to the windshield. "Do it!" Redmon says. I fire three bullets through the windshield. Nothing happens for a moment, then the truck swerves and careens off the road, flipping once before smashing into a pine tree as we pass. "Okay, what's your plan?" I say. "Get back in here and be ready to take over driving!"

I pull myself back in, and I'm just getting situated again when Redmon slams on the brakes. For a second, I think the truck is going to flip forward from braking too hard, but it comes to a violent stop in the middle of the road. Before I know it, Redmon is out with his .50 cal. He jumps into the back and sets up for a shot, standing in the bed with his rifle propped on the roof. "This was your plan?" I ask, shifting into the driver's seat.

"Stop moving!" he says. I stop. The truck stills. For a moment, there's only the wind and the smell of pine trees. I gaze out the windshield at the distant black dot in the sky. The whole truck rocks with the gunshot. I hear Redmon work the bolt, and I hear the clunk of the spent shell hitting the roof.

Nothing happens to the small dot in the sky. It's still there. But there's movement on the road. Another vehicle is speeding toward us. An SUV. Now we're sitting ducks. We're easy targets. Redmon fires again. "Watch your ass! 12 o'clock!" he shouts, loading another cartridge into the chamber. "I see them!" I say, stepping out of the truck. The black dot is still in the sky. It's getting smaller.

I crouch next to the truck and aim at the approaching SUV, knowing I have plenty of ammo left. I take my time, waiting for the vehicle to get closer so I have a better chance of hitting a tire. Redmon fires at the creature and I fire at the SUV.

The SUV swerves into a ditch and the black dot spirals out of the sky like a helicopter in a death spiral. "You hit it!" I exclaim, getting to my feet. "I winged it! We better get over there, quick!" I jump behind the wheel and hit the gas. Redmond stays in the back with his rifle, ready for when we have a clear shot at the thing. "It's almost over," I say to myself. But something tells me things are going to get worse before they get better.

As we close in on some sort of structure across the road, I realize that we're approaching the entrance to Yellowstone. Thankfully, this is just an entrance, and the popular attractions are still a ways away. The westbound lane splits into four as it comes to a line of ticket booths with gates where people pay their entrance fee to get into the park. There's one sedan at the middle gate, but I see no signs of the ticket booth operators. The eastbound lane is unblocked because it's the exit lane for people to leave the park.

I swerve into the exit lane, thankful it's empty, and cross into the park. 50 yards later, I slam on the brakes and come to a stop. About 200 yards away, a group of people block the road, staring toward us, all of them wearing those awful grimaces.

There's a parking area to the right of these people, where there are bathrooms and several picnic tables. I count eight vehicles in the parking area, including two Park Ranger SUVs. "They're protecting the creature," Redmont says. "The damn thing's got human shields. We just need to get within 20 yards of them," I say, easing forward.

The sound of crunching metal comes from behind me, and I look into my side mirror to see the sedan at the gate surging forward. Watch your ass, Redmon calls again. Up ahead, the two Park Ranger SUVs rev, coming out of the parking area. We have one vehicle speeding at us from behind, and two from ahead. Go, Redmon says. I hit the gas. A moment later, the 50 cal booms out, and a large hole appears in the windshield of one of the approaching Park Ranger SUVs.

The vehicle slows to a coast, continuing forward along the road. Gripping the steering wheel with both hands, I realize I haven't fastened my seatbelt. It's too late now. My eyes jump from side mirrors to the windshield, mind reeling as I think of a way to survive this.

Redmon fires again, but the other Ranger SUV swerves, and a hole appears in the left side of the windshield. It keeps coming. There's no time now. I have to make a move. "Hold on!" I shout. I tap the brake pedal and turn the wheel left as the Ranger SUV closes in. It's too little too late. The SUV slams into the truck,

The impact sends the truck spinning on the road. For a brief moment, I feel like the thing is going to flip, but it doesn't. It comes to rest near the left side of the road. I look up into the rearview mirror, not seeing any sign of Redmond. But before I can process this information, I look out my window and see the sedan from the gate closing in.

I'm whipped sideways as the sedan t-bones the truck directly on my door. My head smashes into something. I feel the structure of my left leg change as I'm slammed around inside the truck cab. The world goes blurry. A deafening silence settles on my ringing ears as I sit up in my seat, trying to get my bearings. The ticking of cooling engines and the hiss of liquid escaping a small hole soon replace the silence.

I look at my left hand, noticing that my thumb is facing the wrong direction. "Redmon!" I say, looking around. Then I remember the device. I spin and look into the back, seeing that all three components are still attached to the battery. My semi-auto rifle is in the passenger seat. I try to open my door, but it's too damaged. I crawl across, grabbing my rifle and opening the other door.

As I try to stand up outside the truck, my left leg gives out and I collapse. A wave of sickness rolls through me as I look down to see that my leg is broken. The lower portion of it sits at an oblique angle to my knee. A woman starts screaming from nearby, and I think it's someone in the sedan that rammed me. I gaze ahead, seeing one of the vehicles from the parking area is now parked in the road. Several people are gathered around something, loading it up into the truck bed.

It's the creature I realize. They're maybe 40 yards away, so the device isn't countering the thing's effects. They're loading it up into a truck so it can escape. It just isn't driving people insane now. It's controlling them with eerie precision. "Redmond, are you there?" I reach up, realizing my earpiece is gone. Using the truck to help me, I climb up and balance on my right foot. I look back toward the site of the first crash, where the Ranger's SUV hit the truck.

I spot Redmond lying in the road, amid a pool of blood. My jaw clenches and I look back toward the truck with the creature in it. It's getting ready to leave, to head to a more popular part of the park. And maybe, from there, to a city. I can't let it get away. I reach down and grab my rifle, bringing it up and aiming it at the vehicle. The tailgate is up, so I don't have a clear shot at the creature. As if it knows what I'm thinking, the creature directs the people to get between me and the truck.

Men, women, and children line up, looking at me with terrified sneers on their faces. Redmon's voice speaks in my head: "End it now, or more people will die. You know what you have to do, Coggins, so fucking do it!" If I didn't know better, I would think he was still alive, talking to me through the radio. But he's not. He's dead. And now it's the goddamn creature's turn.

I fire first at the rear window of the truck, hoping to hit the driver. I put three rounds through the window and then change my aim, putting bullets through the human shields. They drop like puppets with cut strings, allowing me to fire at the tailgate. I put the rest of my magazine through the tailgate and then turn back to the truck, searching for another mag.

Something catches my eye in the truck bed. It's Redmond's .50 cal. Somehow, it stayed in the back of the truck through both crashes. I toss my rifle and grab the .50, spinning around to see that the truck is still there. I watch as a woman pulls a dead man out of the driver's seat and then climbs behind the wheel. The damn thing is still alive! I raise the rifle and aim at the back window through the scope. On an exhale, I pull the trigger, blasting through the seat back and the woman.

A splatter of red hits the windshield. There's no one left around the truck. I shift my aim and fire another round through the center of the tailgate. I try to fire a third time, but the rifle clicks empty. Reversing the large weapon, I grip the barrel and use it as a crutch as I hobble toward the truck. It's only when I'm beyond 20 yards from the device that I realize the creature is still alive. I can feel it prodding at my mind.

But it's weak, and I resist, keeping Talavera and Redmon in my mind, allowing that to drive my justified rage. At the truck, I pull down the tailgate and look at the creature. It looks like a giant scorpion fly, complete with the curved scorpion tail and everything. Two of its four wings are damaged, and there's a large chunk torn from its abdomen, probably from my recent shot with the .50 cal.

Yellowish goo leaks from the injury. It looks up at me with its bulbous brown-black eyes, its antennae twitching. I can still feel it worming its way inside my head, messing with my emotions and perception. I bring the .50 cal up and smash its head to bits with the rifle butt. That worming sensation disappears, and I come fully back to myself. I smash it again, crushing the body. That yellow goop splashes out and onto my shirt.

It smells like the dumpster behind a fast food restaurant. I keep smashing it until there's nothing left but the spindly legs and little bits of exoskeleton. Huffing, I turn around and sit on the tailgate. After a moment, I hear the sound of a helicopter approaching. There's our air support. I shake my head and realize, for the first time ever, that I actually do want to retire.

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It turns out that Dr. Masur couldn't handle the guilt of being forced to kill his own colleagues when the creature escaped. He took his own life in the middle of our operation. That's why I couldn't contact him over the radio. It was also why our air support was delayed. I'm in a hospital in Bozeman, and Cas just wheeled Talavera in. He's gonna be alright. We're all still getting used to the idea that we'll never see Redmon again. But there's a silver lining to that story.

A day ago, after I got out of surgery for my leg, I got a call from a lawyer. The guy played a recording that Redmond had given him some months ago. "If you're hearing this, I'm dead and you're not," Redmond said in the recording. "Good for you. I just hope I didn't die suffering in some goddamn hospital. As I knew it would, my smoking caught up with me. Lung cancer. And it's too far gone to do anything about."

Well, the doc said chemo was an option, but I was never going to do the whole goddamn way. Anyway, I didn't want to burden you with this crap until I was sure what I was gonna do about it. But if you're hearing this, it means that decision has been taken out of my hands. Thank Christ for that. I just hope I died with my boots on and my 50s- See you in the next one, buddy. Oh, and don't forget, watch your ass.

Both Cass and Talavera received similar messages. Although I get the feeling Cass's was much longer and more detailed than Talavera's or mine. Cass was always his favorite, like a daughter he never had. Now we're all sitting around in my hospital room, talking about Redmon, sharing funny stories about his grumpy old ass. Cass's phone rings and she picks up. "Hello?" she says. "Yeah, yes, okay. Send me the address, got it."

She hangs up and looks at me. "Got a call. Should be an easy one though. Another Sasquatch has gotten loose." I smile. "Oh yeah, you can handle that one yourself. Those things are dumb as hell." Cass stands up. "I'll be back in a couple of days at most. Good luck," Talavera says. "Watch your ass," I say, doing my best impression of Redmon. Cass leaves the room, chuckling.

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