Callsign: King II- Underworld

“Okay, that was a little weird,” King said, breaking the silence. He switched on a flashlight, but kept it covered with one hand so that it only produced a soft glow, enough for them to see each other, without being seen by anyone nearby. “The lightning and that mist…are those things that are usually associated with this Muggy Monster?”


His avoidance of her earlier questions did not escape Nina’s notice. King might have come looking for the creature, but he obviously knew nothing about it. “Yes and no. Lightning…well, we get a lot of that in the desert. But that mist…I’ve heard stories about that as well, although not in connection with the monster.

“There are all kinds of reports of strange phenomena occurring in the Superstitions—like that mist. A lot of people believe that there are magnetic vortices, caused by all the iron ore in the ground, and that the mountains amplify the earth’s natural energy. Others claim there are inter-dimensional doorways here. There are reports of people levitating, being transported miles away in the blink of an eye, or just vanishing completely.” She forced a laugh. “If you ask me, you have to be crazy to want to live in the desert, and crazy people are apt to see a lot of crazy things.”

“You sound skeptical.”

“I am. I mean, I was. Until…” Her attempt at evincing confidence fizzled. “What about you? You say that you were here because of the Mogollon Monster. What did you mean by that?”

“It doesn’t matter. You should be safe here for now.” He picked up a soldier’s helmet, presumably something he had taken from the camp during their flight, and settled it on his head, lowering the attached night-vision device into place.

“It does matter,” she protested. “You clearly don’t know anything about the Mogollon Monster or the Superstitions. And if you think I’m just going to sit here while the answers I’m looking for are right out there, you’re crazy.”

He swiveled the night-vision monocular out the way and stared at her appraisingly. “I’ll admit having someone who knows about this stuff would be helpful. But I can’t guarantee your safety.”

“I didn’t ask for your guarantee. I came out here on my own, and if necessary, I’ll finish this the same way.”

He smiled. “I seem to recall something about a rattlesnake.”

Before she could protest, he lowered the monocular again, and then switched off the flashlight, plunging her once more into darkness. As her eyes adjusted, she could make out his silhouette as he peered through the windshield, looking across the desert to the ruins of the army camp.

“They’re gone,” he said finally, but something about his tone caused Nina’s heart to start racing again.

“The Mogollon Monsters?”

He shook his head in the darkness. “Everyone.”





17.


The scrape of something against his heels startled Pierce into wakefulness; someone was dragging him. He reflexively struggled against the grip, his hands searching the darkness for his captor.

“Easy, pardner.” The voice was low, intentionally hushed, but most assuredly human. “I’m tryin’ to help.”

Pierce felt himself lowered to the ground, then the hand shifted position to help him to his feet. “Who are you?”

“Keep it down.” The voice was calm, delivered with a thick southern drawl that Pierce couldn’t quite place. “I saw you take a tumble and thought you might need a hand. Good thing too, because those…well, whatever they are…they started coming down a few minutes later.”

The words unlocked Pierce’s short-term memory…the attack on the military camp…his flight out into the desert. He didn’t remember the fall, but his body did. He could feel fresh abrasions on his cheek and forehead, and his body ached. As he probed his injuries, he realized that his hands were free. “You cut me loose,” he said, remembering to whisper. “Thanks.”

“Didn’t make a lick of sense to keep you trussed up like that. Come on. I think I see a place where we can hole up and let them pass by.”

Pierce strained to hear anything other than the crunch of their footsteps, but the air was as still as it was dark. He intuited that the man with him had to be one of the soldiers from the camp, navigating the tunnel with night vision goggles. Resignedly, Pierce allowed himself to be led forward into the wall of blackness.

“Here. Hunker down. They’re right behind us.” The man was insistent, but strangely calm, as if fleeing from hulking humanoid monsters was an everyday occurrence.

Pierce did as instructed, aware of his heart thudding in his chest. After a few seconds, he heard other sounds—grunts, labored breathing, the slap of skin against stone—and almost gagged as a rancid odor, like a heap of rotting skunk flesh, filled his nose. It was the distinctive smell of the creatures that had attacked the camp—he had smelled it earlier, though not as strongly—during the mayhem. The creatures were indeed close, and getting closer, and Pierce expected at any moment to feel large hands close over him.