Surviving the Apocalypse: Long Leggity Beasties

Chapter 1-2

Jenn preferred the moderate temps of the east coast, but she’d been ordered to the southwest, so that was where she was, in the Chihuahuan Desert in New Mexico, crouched down, and studying the strange print in the dust. “Do you have any idea what this is, Greg?” She brushed an arm over her forehead, catching the sweat that dripped from the ends of her cap of black hair.

“No clue, boss.” Greg glanced up at the sky, where dark clouds were rolling in. “I’d better get this done.”

“I’ll leave you to it.” She straightened and watched as her investigator began pouring casting material into the depression, then turned to walk back to her rental car. This had started as a simple case of a missing person, but when the missing person turned out to be the governor’s niece, Jenn had been sent out to investigate. The woman had recently divorced her husband, and she’d taken her two preschool children camping. According to her parents, she’d called every few days to touch base. When she missed a check-in, her parents hadn’t been too concerned, but when no trace of her had been found by local law enforcement after more than a week, the governor had stepped in and raised hell. He had enough pull to get the FBI involved, hence Jenn’s presence.

The entire family was worried, especially the ex-husband, who seemed frantic about the whereabouts of his children. Jenn had sent some of her men to question him. She’d known men who wept and pleaded with the public for help in finding their wives or children, only to have it turn out they’d been the ones who’d killed them.

This time, however, the ex-husband had had nothing to do with the disappearance.

They’d caught a possible break earlier in the day. Local law enforcement received word from a rancher flying his private plane in search of a dozen or so head of cattle that had gone missing and he assumed had been rustled. According to the sheriff’s department, the rancher had spotted something from the air, and since whatever it was shouldn’t have been on his land, he’d notified them. Because of the situation with the missing woman, the information had been passed on to the FBI, and Jenn had requested a pair of deputies who were familiar with the territory be sent out to investigate.

Jenn hated cases like this and just hoped they were able to turn up something.

Meanwhile, this print had turned up at a campsite the missing woman had previously used, and it had to be investigated.

“Agent Canaday.”

She paused at the call. A man in a dark blue uniform jogged toward her. Unlike the stereotypical sheriff’s deputy, whose fat ass tested the limits of his pants and whose gut draped over his belt, he was in good shape, his waist trim and his shoulders and biceps lovingly contained by his uniform shirt. If she wasn’t a card-carrying lesbian, she might have been interested. “Yes?”

“I’m Deputy Weldon of the sheriff’s department. My partner and I went to check out that tip we received.”

“What did you find?”

“We came across a campsite about forty miles from here.”

“And?”

“From what we could make out, the tent pretty much matches the description the governor gave us. And going by what was scattered around—some picture books, a stuffed animal, a—” He swallowed. “—a tiny pair of hiking boots, little kids had been there.”

“From what you could make out?” The situation was giving her the heebie-jeebies—the occasional susurration of the wind, the strange silence when it stopped. She ran a hand through her sweat-damp hair. Not even insect sounds disturbed the heavy atmosphere. “Mind explaining yourself?”

He nodded, and this time when he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbed almost painfully. “The portable grill was cold, and from all the sand in it, it hadn’t been used in about a week.”

That would have made it around the time Ms. Stuart was first declared missing.

“The tent was collapsed on itself, and when we raised it, one side was completely shredded. The blowup mattress inside had been deflated by some kind of puncture. My partner found this in the glovebox of the pickup that was parked nearby.” He handed her the truck’s registration, which had the governor’s niece listed as the owner.

She sighed. “Any sign of Ms. Stuart or her children?”

“Not yet.” He shifted. “Drake—my partner—stayed behind to look for them. I’ve gotta get back.”

“What’s bothering you?” Not that she blamed him for his obvious tension. Every law enforcement agency she knew of hated when kids were involved.

He held up his hand, and for the first time she got a good look at what he carried—the stuffed animal, its head missing and its stuffing leaking out.

“Oh, shit.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“All right. Let me make this call, and then I want you to take me to the site.”

He gave a jerky nod and began pacing.

Jenn took out her phone and speed-dialed a number. Fortunately, someone picked up right away. “It’s Jenn.”

“Well, hello there, honey muffin.”

“Knock it off, Nick.”

The woman on the other end of the line chuckled. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m working a missing person case.”

“Ah. I assume you have something you need me for?”

“I do.”

“You know, if you’d said that to that cutie you dated six years ago, I have no doubt she would have taken you away from all this.”

Jenn scowled, even though Nicki wasn’t around to see it. Whatever had possessed her to tell her BFF about that incident?

She’d met Nicola Hallstadt back when they’d both been freshman in college. They’d gone out on a couple of dates—neither of which had involved s*x, and maybe that was why it had only been two dates—and agreed they made better roommates than girlfriends. Their roommate status had quickly morphed into real friendship. Nicki tended to practice serial monogamy over the long run and somehow managed to maintain a friendly relationship with all her exes, while Jenn’s affairs tended to be very few, very brief, and very intense and when she was done, she was done. Except for one—she shut down that train of thought.

“I love my work.”

“I know.” A gusty sigh came over the line. “You’re pretty much married to your job. No one can compete with it.”

“Nicki—”

“Well, never mind, it’s too late now,” her friend said, her voice annoyingly cheerful. “What’ve you got?”

Jenn wanted to growl. That seemed to be the question of the day. “Sanchez is making a cast of a print we found.”

“What sort of print?” Nick’s tone indicated her keen interest. This was her avocation, one of the areas she excelled in.

“That’s just it. Neither of us have seen anything like it, although I can tell you I’m fairly sure it’s not mammalian.” Sanchez was an expert in his field, and while she was growing up, Jenn had learned to identify the track of every local critter she’d come across.

“And you want me to take a look at it?”

“If you have the time? You’re the best I know—”

“Now, now, flattery will get you everywhere.”

“—and I can send you a 3D image. Are you at home or at the university?” There was a two hour time difference, and it was late enough back east that Nick could have been in either place. She worked out of a small, private, but highly-respected university in Delaware and lived in the college town where most of the student body resided.

“Actually, I’m in Santa Fe.”

Jenn frowned. That city was on the border of the Chihuahuan Desert, maybe seventy-five miles or so from their present location. “Mind if I ask why? That’s a little out of your territory.” Nicki was the proverbial city girl.

“Would you believe me if I said I had a hot date with Sanchez?”

“My Sanchez?”

“Hardly yours, since you prefer girls exclusively.” That was true. The women Jenn dated were statuesque brunettes who tended to dress casually, although it hadn’t always been that way. She refused to think about what—who—had changed her tastes.

“Whereas you like the girls and the boys.”

“No sense limiting myself. Seriously, though, Mom got a call to come out here, and she wanted me to join her.”

“Well, that’s convenient.” However, if roaches were involved, Jenn was so checking out of her hotel. Nicki’s entire family were involved in the study of creepy crawlies: her dad had been an arachnologist, specializing in all species of spiders, which was kind of okay—they were supposed to bring luck—but her mother tended to focus her abilities on roaches. Jenn didn’t like most insects, but roaches…She shuddered. She’d almost caused a riot in Biology 101 when she’d let out a yell—she refused to this day to admit it was more a screech—and jumped on one of the tables when a roach their professor was using to demonstrate something in that particular class had escaped and ran loose. She hadn’t been able to pick up any of those things, even though they’d been raised in the college’s own lab and were guaranteed not to carry any diseases. Anything as big as her thumb and with that many legs skeeved the hell out of her. As for Nicki herself, she was the foremost entomologist in the country, with her area of expertise being myrmecology, the study of ants. However, what Jenn needed her for was her exceptional knowledge regarding all manner of prints—foot, hoof, or paw. “Who called her, and why?”

“Mom, who called you and why?” There was a muffled response, and then her friend came back on the line. “She can’t tell, she’d have to kill me otherwise.” Nick chuckled, and so did Jenn. “But she said to promise you there is no infestation.”

“Thank your mom for that assurance.”

“Jenn says thanks, Mom.”…“Mom says you’re welcome.”

Jenn laughed. She doubted it was necessary, but if she ever decided she needed to know what Professor Hallstadt really was doing in New Mexico, she had ways of finding out.

“Where are you staying, Nick? I have some things I need to look into, but I’ll send Greg with the casting and you can take a look at it. If you don’t mind?”

“A chance to meet that hot hottie again? I don’t mind at all. We’re staying at the Carson in the historic district, room 412. Tell Sanchez I’ll meet him in the bar.”

“Thanks, Nicki. You’re a good friend.”

“I am, aren’t I?” Nicki’s laughter traveled over the phone line, but Jenn was serious: Nicki really was a good friend. “I have to go, Mom’s giving me the evil eye.”

“Don’t let her run you ragged.” In spite of the professor’s age, she managed to exhaust colleagues thirty years her junior.

Nicki laughed again. “As if. I am her daughter, you know. Bye, Jenn. I’ll see you.”

“Bye.” She ended the call and turned to the deputy. She could see he was becoming antsy. “I’ll be right with you, Officer Weldon.”

“Yes, ma’am.” It was warm, but he was sweating more than the heat seemed to warrant.

Jenn hurried to where Greg was crouched down, pouring in the last of the casting material. He looked up to meet her gaze. “What’s up, boss?”

“I’m heading out with the deputy to check the campsite.”

“Okay.”

“Once that’s set, take my rental—I’ll catch a ride back to town with the deputy—and bring the print to Dr. Hallstadt.”

He froze. “Which one?” he asked cautiously. Although Professor Hallstadt also had a doctorate in entomology, she used her title of professor so as not to cause confusion for her daughter.

“They’re both staying at the Carson Hotel in Santa Fe.” Jenn could see the warm color that mounted his cheeks. “However, Nicki will be waiting to meet you in the bar.”

He started to choke.

“Did you just inhale a snootful of dust?” she teased.

“No, I didn’t—” Greg glowered at her. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

She snorted. “Just find out what the hell made that print.”

“Will do, boss.”

Jenn turned and strode to the cruiser where Weldon waited, shifting from one foot to the other. “Sorry,” she said.

Weldon grunted and got into the car. He threw it into gear, barely giving her time to shut the door and buckle up. Then he stepped on the gas.

* * * *

It took Weldon twenty minutes to reach the turnoff—to say the man had a lead foot was putting it mildly, and this cruiser was such an old model it had nothing to grip above the passenger door. However, that didn’t stop Jenn from clinging to the seat as surreptitiously as she could—and then another ten minutes driving through sand and scrub brush before they reached the campsite.

“Oh God,” Jenn said softly. From what Weldon had mentioned, of course she’d expected the tent to be in tatters, but not with such obvious violence. The pickup—Holy God, it was in even worse shape. The rear tires were flattened as if someone had taken a butcher knife to them. The passenger side door had been carved open as if that same someone had used a huge can opener on it, and wisps of steam rose from the crushed hood.

“What the hell?”

“What is it?”

“The pickup didn’t look anything like this.” Weldon threw the cruiser into park, shoved open the door, and tore out of the vehicle.

“Don’t disturb the scene,” Jenn called after him. Fortunately, Weldon was enough of a professional to listen to her. She stepped out of the cruiser and checked the tracker she wore on her wrist, then put in a call to the field office. “It’s Canaday. I want a flatbed tow truck sent to these coordinates.” She read them off her tracker. “Send out my team as well. And you’d better hurry. It looks like a sandstorm might be brewing.”

“They’re on their way, ma’am.”

“Good man.” She hung up and studied the disaster that was this campsite.

Meanwhile, Weldon had cupped his hands around his mouth and was shouting, “Drake? Drake!”

There was no answer.