She watched as a thick tendril of thorn vine at the base of the mound slowly but steadily twisted itself around an unusually large and sharply fanged rat. The creature, about the size of a cat, fought viciously to escape, but it was trapped and soon overwhelmed. It's fur in scarlet tatters, it was pulled shrieking into the the interior of the thicket and vanished. Bruin Hilda shuddered at the sight of the thing. But she continued searching for her objective: insects. And she saw none. Not a single one. She wondered at that.
It had been about fourteen hours since Dr. Mitchell had buzzed the mound with the Mech V's NL-5-Kz anti-virus. He had flown three loops around the mound, spraying the pink mist in long trailing clouds. Bruin Hilda imagined that the mist had penetrated far into the foliage, but she didn't feel sure. It was possible the mist had killed all of the insects. Or that they had bored into the center of the mound and were waiting for their tunnels to clear of the anti-virus. Or that they had completely fled the area unseen. The mist was supposed to unravel the DNA effects of NL-5-Kz virus to the point where the insects would revert back to their normal, pre-mutant forms. Had that happened, however, she would have expected to see at least some normal insects pillaging for food around the mound. Perhaps it took more time to work? But if so she would have still expected to see at least some insects in the foliage. Nope. Zero.
She lowered her binoculars and looked down the road where the refugees, some eight hundred of them, were clustered. The several that had been healed of blindness were still singing the Hymn that Bruin Hilda had recited. Her gaze passed further south and she wondered how Captain Samwise and the others had made out. But her concern was getting the refugees out of the danger zone. They had been organized by the lieutenants into bands and they had already begun to move northward along route 89. Bruin Hilda's jeep was the furthest south of the caravan. They were planning to head back to the insect mound to procure a stock of food for the long journey north that lay ahead. As long as there were no insects around the mound, she thought they could make it. She was willing to try.
Returning her gaze northward she watched the retreating refugees as they marched along the the old weatherworn highway. What their final destination was exactly was still unknown. Dr. Mitchell had informed her that the path north was clear of obvious perils all the way to Salt Lake, but his viewpoint was undoubtedly colored by the direct line of flight the Mech V's had taken, as well as the speed and height at which they'd flown. Large perils like the Tree-Beasts she could believe had been cleared away, but smaller ones? She wasn't so sure. Their choice was between heading up route 89 to 15 and then to Salt Lake City, or to cut across the desert westward, past Garrison, and on to Ely, where she knew of a community of survivors with whom the refugees could potentially settle. But that was a decision for later on down the road. Right now, she needed to get the rabble north and out of danger, without letting them starve to death along the way.
It was mid-summer, and the desert was devoid of life, except for the occasional patch of cactus or scrub brush. The caravan wouldn't survive long without a supply of food and water. And so she looked through her binoculars again at the insect mound. There was food there. Lots of food. They had to risk it.
The Away Team was comprised of herself, Lt. Kerrington, Tom who volunteered to go, and a recruit from the caravan who had also volunteered to help them navigate the terrain around the mound. His name was Wilard Jones, and he said had a lot of experience hunting the wild flora around Panguitch. The fellow was coming off the NL-5-Kz virus and so he still had a few remaining mutant features, such as a rat-like nose and eyes. His mind was quite keen and he said he knew his way around the mound, having hunted there before. And so off they went, the jeep leaving a trail of dust behind it as they cut off the main road and wound their way to the mound through the back country. Everything seemed calm. No insects. When they arrived at the base of the mound the stillness in the air was broken by the shrieks of wild animals, and the constant sounds of grinding and thrashing coming from within the mass of deep green foliage. Wilard hopped off the jeep first and darted over to the edge of the leaf-wall. He sniffed the air a few times and then crept carefully along the perimeter. Before Bruin Hilda and Kerrington could reach him, however, he had darted inside and vanished. They called for him a few times but there was no answer.
"Ok, Kerrington, we'll have to catch up with him later. For now, let's hunt for food and see what we can come up with."
"Yes, ma'am," replied the Lieutenant as he shouldered his machine gun and started creeping towards the foliage. Once inside, they found that there were narrow pathways between the thorn vines, but one had to tread slowly enough not to get cut by thorns, but fast enough not to get trapped by their writing tentacles. It was tricky work. At one point they got separated, and Bruin Hilda wound up alone. She'd managed to kill and bag a large rattlesnake, and had spotted a line of rats scampering along a high branch, but couldn't reach them. She continued along the path. Then a series of rats, some quite large. ran past her and dashed into the foliage. Then another group. They all seemed to be heading in the same direction, so she followed their lead. More rats scurried past. Eventually she came to a clearing. In the center of it was Wilard, surrounded by thousands of rats. His arms were outstretched and he looked like he was in some kind of trance. She concealed herself behind a tree and watched.
It had been about fourteen hours since Dr. Mitchell had buzzed the mound with the Mech V's NL-5-Kz anti-virus. He had flown three loops around the mound, spraying the pink mist in long trailing clouds. Bruin Hilda imagined that the mist had penetrated far into the foliage, but she didn't feel sure. It was possible the mist had killed all of the insects. Or that they had bored into the center of the mound and were waiting for their tunnels to clear of the anti-virus. Or that they had completely fled the area unseen. The mist was supposed to unravel the DNA effects of NL-5-Kz virus to the point where the insects would revert back to their normal, pre-mutant forms. Had that happened, however, she would have expected to see at least some normal insects pillaging for food around the mound. Perhaps it took more time to work? But if so she would have still expected to see at least some insects in the foliage. Nope. Zero.
She lowered her binoculars and looked down the road where the refugees, some eight hundred of them, were clustered. The several that had been healed of blindness were still singing the Hymn that Bruin Hilda had recited. Her gaze passed further south and she wondered how Captain Samwise and the others had made out. But her concern was getting the refugees out of the danger zone. They had been organized by the lieutenants into bands and they had already begun to move northward along route 89. Bruin Hilda's jeep was the furthest south of the caravan. They were planning to head back to the insect mound to procure a stock of food for the long journey north that lay ahead. As long as there were no insects around the mound, she thought they could make it. She was willing to try.
Returning her gaze northward she watched the retreating refugees as they marched along the the old weatherworn highway. What their final destination was exactly was still unknown. Dr. Mitchell had informed her that the path north was clear of obvious perils all the way to Salt Lake, but his viewpoint was undoubtedly colored by the direct line of flight the Mech V's had taken, as well as the speed and height at which they'd flown. Large perils like the Tree-Beasts she could believe had been cleared away, but smaller ones? She wasn't so sure. Their choice was between heading up route 89 to 15 and then to Salt Lake City, or to cut across the desert westward, past Garrison, and on to Ely, where she knew of a community of survivors with whom the refugees could potentially settle. But that was a decision for later on down the road. Right now, she needed to get the rabble north and out of danger, without letting them starve to death along the way.
It was mid-summer, and the desert was devoid of life, except for the occasional patch of cactus or scrub brush. The caravan wouldn't survive long without a supply of food and water. And so she looked through her binoculars again at the insect mound. There was food there. Lots of food. They had to risk it.
The Away Team was comprised of herself, Lt. Kerrington, Tom who volunteered to go, and a recruit from the caravan who had also volunteered to help them navigate the terrain around the mound. His name was Wilard Jones, and he said had a lot of experience hunting the wild flora around Panguitch. The fellow was coming off the NL-5-Kz virus and so he still had a few remaining mutant features, such as a rat-like nose and eyes. His mind was quite keen and he said he knew his way around the mound, having hunted there before. And so off they went, the jeep leaving a trail of dust behind it as they cut off the main road and wound their way to the mound through the back country. Everything seemed calm. No insects. When they arrived at the base of the mound the stillness in the air was broken by the shrieks of wild animals, and the constant sounds of grinding and thrashing coming from within the mass of deep green foliage. Wilard hopped off the jeep first and darted over to the edge of the leaf-wall. He sniffed the air a few times and then crept carefully along the perimeter. Before Bruin Hilda and Kerrington could reach him, however, he had darted inside and vanished. They called for him a few times but there was no answer.
"Ok, Kerrington, we'll have to catch up with him later. For now, let's hunt for food and see what we can come up with."
"Yes, ma'am," replied the Lieutenant as he shouldered his machine gun and started creeping towards the foliage. Once inside, they found that there were narrow pathways between the thorn vines, but one had to tread slowly enough not to get cut by thorns, but fast enough not to get trapped by their writing tentacles. It was tricky work. At one point they got separated, and Bruin Hilda wound up alone. She'd managed to kill and bag a large rattlesnake, and had spotted a line of rats scampering along a high branch, but couldn't reach them. She continued along the path. Then a series of rats, some quite large. ran past her and dashed into the foliage. Then another group. They all seemed to be heading in the same direction, so she followed their lead. More rats scurried past. Eventually she came to a clearing. In the center of it was Wilard, surrounded by thousands of rats. His arms were outstretched and he looked like he was in some kind of trance. She concealed herself behind a tree and watched.
Then Kerrington appeared at an opening on the other side of the clearing, his machine gun at the ready. Bruin Hilda signaled him to wait. The rats did not appear to be attacking Wilard. Instead, she had the impression they were worshipping him. At that moment Wilard opened his eyes. He spotted Bruin Hilda immediately.
"Come out, Captain," called Wilard, "There's nothing to be afraid of. These are my brothers and sisters. My children!"
"Come out, Captain," called Wilard, "There's nothing to be afraid of. These are my brothers and sisters. My children!"
After all they'd been through, this revelation was only mildly surprising to the Captain. She got up and walked closer to where he was standing. Words spoken, and an agreement was made. Wilard ordered his giant mischief of rats to go through the undergrowth and bring out as many snakes and lizards as they could. And so they did. Within an hour there was a large mass of snakes and lizards stuffed into the large burlap bags in the back of the jeep.
Wilard told the Captain that he wanted to bring the rat horde along with them north.
"But we can't feed that many rats," replied Bruin Hilda. "There will scarcely be enough food to feed the people once we get into the desert. It's a dead zone, especially out along the way towards Garrison."
But Wilard would have none of it. He firmly insisted that the rats could take care of themselves, wouldn't bother anyone, and could be counted on to forage and bring in food whenever it was available. He also pointed out that they made excellent scouts, and could scan an area for miles around by climbing to the tops of cactus, burrow into the ground to find water, and, well, all kinds of useful things.
But still, Bruin Hilda was not keen on having a huge horde of rats along for the march. And this sentiment was shared by Kerrington and Tom as well. After all, a large swarm of rats is called "a mischief" for a reason.
And that was where we left things that night.
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