DarkMatter D20: Drunk Southern Girls with Guns ... UPDATED - 8/18/05!
- Thread starter jonrog1
- Start date
Just on vacation in Sedona after finishing a bunch of assignments. I'm going to do some fun writing this weekend -- which means an update.
And two things: first, my MOW is now called "RED SKIES" (damn title clearance) and will be on the fine USA Network on August 7th. But I can hardly pimp my stuff without mentioning the real triumph -- "Andy" from this story hour is the writer/creator of "HAUNTED" the new UPN show on after Buffy this fall. All must watch!
And two things: first, my MOW is now called "RED SKIES" (damn title clearance) and will be on the fine USA Network on August 7th. But I can hardly pimp my stuff without mentioning the real triumph -- "Andy" from this story hour is the writer/creator of "HAUNTED" the new UPN show on after Buffy this fall. All must watch!
CATTLE MUTILATORS
PT.1
“It’s a milk run, really. Simply show up, do the interviews, take the pictures.” Superintendent Richardson spread the map out in front of his local Agents. “Little place called Fairview, Arizona.”
“Don’t we have a field office out there?” Ross flipped through the files as Stephen, Andy and Jo looked at the map.
“Only in major cities.”
“Which, despite its cruel lack of culture, Los Angles is considered.” Stephen looked at the others. “What? We get the road company of The Lion King and everybody plotzes. It’s pitiful.”
Andy pointed to green circles on the map. “What are these?”
“Those are your UFO sightings,” answered a new voice. They turned to see a new Agent enter the room, arms filled with files. He had the intense look of an academic researcher, but he moved as if he’d had recent field training.
“This is Denis, he’s an expert on UFO lore. He’s done excellent statistical analysis, and you folks get to break him in on his first field mission.” Superintendent Richardson stepped out through his doorway. “Try not to give him any of your bad habits,” he said as he left.
“What bad habits?” asked Denis.
The other agents looked at Andy. “What, I shouldn’t have framed innocent people for murder? I don’t tell you how to do your jobs.”
The rest introduced each other, then went straight to work. Denis cross-referenced his files with the map. “In the last year, Fairview, Arizona has suffered from a statistically significant number of cattle mutilations. In the last six months, they’ve suddenly started reporting UFO’s.”
“Who’s ‘they’?” asked Jo.
“Local ranchers, mostly. There’s barely a town there. Used to be a big place –there was a factory nearby that shut down about five, six years ago. All we have to do is go out there and …” Denis paused. “What’s in that flask?”
“Nerve medicine, rookie. It keeps Mommy from pointing her guns at people.” Jo pulled back her jacket to show she was now carrying two Glock 9’s at all times.
“… ah. Anyway, we got a fresh cattle mutilation, a rancher named Claremont. We’ll start with him, see if the pattern of injuries matches classic mutilation, then nail down the exact locations of the previous mutilations and the UFO sightings. Just interview stuff.”
Stephen jangled his keys. “They gave us the big travel van, got a trailer on it with our equipment. Cover story?”
“Hoffman Institute stuff. Same story you used in the Desmond Case.”
“… and that went so well …” Ross muttered to himself. “My shotgun packed?”
Stephen nodded. “Fresh clips for everyone, too.” The Agents moved as a group toward the door.
Denis hesitated. “Ummm, shotgun? Aren’t we just supposed to be asking questions?” When the others didn’t answer, he quietly fell into step behind them.
********************************************
They drove for seven hours, finally closing in on Fairview at 11 at night. They’d turned off the main interstate hours before. It was dead desert dark, an unlit two-lane rocketing straight out into the dry plateau. In the distance mountains loomed, black against the starry night. The Agents had exhausted small talk hours before and rode in silence, their faces illuminated by the soft glow from the van’s dashboard. Stephen still drove. Denis rode shotgun, Ross and Jo were on the seat behind them, and Andy stretched out dozing on the last long seat in the rear of the van. It had been two hours since they saw another vehicle, three since they left the last sign of any civilization whatsoever.
Stephen squinted ahead. “Hey, a hundred yards up.”
Denis looked. “Don’t see it.”
“Be in the headlights soon.”
Stephen slowed. He swore, which brought Ross and Jo forward. Andy sat up, slid forward, crouching between the first seat and the van’s side door. “Okay. That’s … odd.”
The van slowly approached what they saw. It was walking stiffly, uncertainly, along the side of the asphalt. It didn’t turn as the headlights lit it up, nor as the van pulled up behind it. Just kept walking.
They parked the van. Andy slid open the door, stepped out. Jo drew one of her Glocks. Denis was about to object, but Ross warned him with a tiny head shake. The Agents filed out of the van, moving slowly. They didn’t really have to chase it, as it didn’t exactly have a long stride.
“Hey,” said Stephen softly.
It stopped. Turned around. Stared at them, confused and innocent.
It was a three year old boy.
The Agents stood frozen for a moment, the low hum of the van engine echoing out into the night. They were hundreds of miles from anything , and here was a three year old boy, wearing a soccer t-shirt, leans and little Nike sneakers. Jo approached, bent down. “He’s … he’s covered in some sort of goo.”
While Stephen checked to make sure the boy was all right physically, Andy and Ross squatted next to Jo. “What’s your name, buddy?”
The boy looked from one to the other. “He’s fine. Body temp’s a little low, probably onset of hypothermia, being out here in the desert,” explained Stephen. There was another awkward silence as the Agents and the little boy stared at each other.
The boy said simply: “The Bad Men are coming.”
There was a long pause. Finally Andy said, “Wow. I was just thinking ‘What’s the last thing I ever, ever want to hear somebody say?’, and the kid said it.”
Denis looked over his shoulder instinctively. He turned back, then double-taked. “Guys?” They all turned. Far, far behind them on the highway, silver dots appeared. They resolved into matched sets. Three matches sets of two. Headlights. Moving very, very fast.
“Guess what, folks –“ Ross began.
“—the Bad Men are coming,” finished Jo.
PT.1
“It’s a milk run, really. Simply show up, do the interviews, take the pictures.” Superintendent Richardson spread the map out in front of his local Agents. “Little place called Fairview, Arizona.”
“Don’t we have a field office out there?” Ross flipped through the files as Stephen, Andy and Jo looked at the map.
“Only in major cities.”
“Which, despite its cruel lack of culture, Los Angles is considered.” Stephen looked at the others. “What? We get the road company of The Lion King and everybody plotzes. It’s pitiful.”
Andy pointed to green circles on the map. “What are these?”
“Those are your UFO sightings,” answered a new voice. They turned to see a new Agent enter the room, arms filled with files. He had the intense look of an academic researcher, but he moved as if he’d had recent field training.
“This is Denis, he’s an expert on UFO lore. He’s done excellent statistical analysis, and you folks get to break him in on his first field mission.” Superintendent Richardson stepped out through his doorway. “Try not to give him any of your bad habits,” he said as he left.
“What bad habits?” asked Denis.
The other agents looked at Andy. “What, I shouldn’t have framed innocent people for murder? I don’t tell you how to do your jobs.”
The rest introduced each other, then went straight to work. Denis cross-referenced his files with the map. “In the last year, Fairview, Arizona has suffered from a statistically significant number of cattle mutilations. In the last six months, they’ve suddenly started reporting UFO’s.”
“Who’s ‘they’?” asked Jo.
“Local ranchers, mostly. There’s barely a town there. Used to be a big place –there was a factory nearby that shut down about five, six years ago. All we have to do is go out there and …” Denis paused. “What’s in that flask?”
“Nerve medicine, rookie. It keeps Mommy from pointing her guns at people.” Jo pulled back her jacket to show she was now carrying two Glock 9’s at all times.
“… ah. Anyway, we got a fresh cattle mutilation, a rancher named Claremont. We’ll start with him, see if the pattern of injuries matches classic mutilation, then nail down the exact locations of the previous mutilations and the UFO sightings. Just interview stuff.”
Stephen jangled his keys. “They gave us the big travel van, got a trailer on it with our equipment. Cover story?”
“Hoffman Institute stuff. Same story you used in the Desmond Case.”
“… and that went so well …” Ross muttered to himself. “My shotgun packed?”
Stephen nodded. “Fresh clips for everyone, too.” The Agents moved as a group toward the door.
Denis hesitated. “Ummm, shotgun? Aren’t we just supposed to be asking questions?” When the others didn’t answer, he quietly fell into step behind them.
********************************************
They drove for seven hours, finally closing in on Fairview at 11 at night. They’d turned off the main interstate hours before. It was dead desert dark, an unlit two-lane rocketing straight out into the dry plateau. In the distance mountains loomed, black against the starry night. The Agents had exhausted small talk hours before and rode in silence, their faces illuminated by the soft glow from the van’s dashboard. Stephen still drove. Denis rode shotgun, Ross and Jo were on the seat behind them, and Andy stretched out dozing on the last long seat in the rear of the van. It had been two hours since they saw another vehicle, three since they left the last sign of any civilization whatsoever.
Stephen squinted ahead. “Hey, a hundred yards up.”
Denis looked. “Don’t see it.”
“Be in the headlights soon.”
Stephen slowed. He swore, which brought Ross and Jo forward. Andy sat up, slid forward, crouching between the first seat and the van’s side door. “Okay. That’s … odd.”
The van slowly approached what they saw. It was walking stiffly, uncertainly, along the side of the asphalt. It didn’t turn as the headlights lit it up, nor as the van pulled up behind it. Just kept walking.
They parked the van. Andy slid open the door, stepped out. Jo drew one of her Glocks. Denis was about to object, but Ross warned him with a tiny head shake. The Agents filed out of the van, moving slowly. They didn’t really have to chase it, as it didn’t exactly have a long stride.
“Hey,” said Stephen softly.
It stopped. Turned around. Stared at them, confused and innocent.
It was a three year old boy.
The Agents stood frozen for a moment, the low hum of the van engine echoing out into the night. They were hundreds of miles from anything , and here was a three year old boy, wearing a soccer t-shirt, leans and little Nike sneakers. Jo approached, bent down. “He’s … he’s covered in some sort of goo.”
While Stephen checked to make sure the boy was all right physically, Andy and Ross squatted next to Jo. “What’s your name, buddy?”
The boy looked from one to the other. “He’s fine. Body temp’s a little low, probably onset of hypothermia, being out here in the desert,” explained Stephen. There was another awkward silence as the Agents and the little boy stared at each other.
The boy said simply: “The Bad Men are coming.”
There was a long pause. Finally Andy said, “Wow. I was just thinking ‘What’s the last thing I ever, ever want to hear somebody say?’, and the kid said it.”
Denis looked over his shoulder instinctively. He turned back, then double-taked. “Guys?” They all turned. Far, far behind them on the highway, silver dots appeared. They resolved into matched sets. Three matches sets of two. Headlights. Moving very, very fast.
“Guess what, folks –“ Ross began.
“—the Bad Men are coming,” finished Jo.
KidCthulhu
First Post
Lights a cigarette and slumps back, contented.
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