Episode 085 Previous Episode	Next Episode
“The ragged they come and the ragged they kill! You pray so hard on bloody knees. The ragged they come and the ragged they kill! Down in the cool air I can see.” Rob Zombie, Superbeast A line opens up across the horizon. It’s a black line. Because there’s nothing in front of it or behind it or by it or anything, I can’t even tell if it’s near or far, or how big it is. But then the line splits and opens. And I see that it’s a mouth. Long, sharp white teeth. Flagellating tongue. Slopping saliva. Everything. And it zooms at us. There’re no lips or anything around the mouth. No jaws or snout or anything. Nothing around the mouth. Just the teeth that loom before us, moving like a flash of light. And then pain. Slate tackles me to the ground as the mouth snaps at the air where I had been. She turns around, bringing the machine gun back towards the mouth. But we can’t see anything. I look across the way at Patrick. He dove in the opposite direction, his pistol drawn out and cocked. “You had a pistol?!” I yell. “Duh!” he yells back, holding the gun with both hands as he sweeps it around, looking for the monster. “You think I was going to come out here with only one gun? You’re out of your damn mind. It’s scary out here.” “It is that,” Slate says, the machine gun cocked as she stands over me, training the barrel around. The desert lingers in silent isolation, like an auditorium of spectators watching a tense sporting event. “How far to the access tunnel?” she says across at Patrick. “I don’t know,” he says, also remaining vigilant. “We’ve got to get to the wall first.” “These things aren’t that big,” Slate emphasizes. “We can’t be too far from it now.” “We might as well be a thousand miles away with that thing out there,” he says. “I don’t suppose either of you know what it is?” “No idea,” Slate says. “Got me,” I say back. “Alright,” Patrick says, standing up and starts to walk backwards towards us. “Here’s what we do,” he says calmly. And as he backpedals, I see it. Not the line. But I see the distortion. The light around the small of his back distorts. “Patrick!” I scream. He whirls around and Slate grabs my shoulder. I’m yanked down from my crouch to the ground as shots ring out. I look up and Patrick’s backing away, shooting. And I can’t see what he’s shooting at but I can see it moving. I can see some type of disturbance in the light. I look at Slate, but she’s watching also, unnerved and appalled. But Patrick turns around completely, his gun held ready. He looks at us. “Go!” he shouts, already breaking into the run. I start to get up but Slate grabs my arm and yanks me to my feet. With a fast shove, she puts her hand on my back and pushes. I start to run and she stays behind me, pushing as she runs. And she’s pushing me faster than I can run. I glance back at her, amazed, but she shoves me for the trouble and keeps me moving. She and Patrick keep speed perfectly while I’m drug along out in front, fighting to keep pace for every step. The hot air bakes my lungs while sweat runs into my eyes. All I can do is throw my head to the side, trying to toss the sweat off. “Stop!” Slate’s hand disappears and I fall to my knees. She whirls around, the gun trained on our area. Patrick moves past me and starts to look at nothing. I stare at him, but he’s staring at the ground. “What are you doing?” I say. “That thing…” “We’re at the end,” he says, knocking on the air. To my shock, he hits something solid. I look up, for the first time barely able to distinguish that I’m not looking at more of nothing. He digs against the dirt, for the first time revealing the metal lining of the bio-dome. “Alright,” he calls, getting his bearings. “We’re about a quarter a mile from the access panel. But it should be easy to find. It should be right on the edge.” “What do we do about the Cheshire cat?” Slate says, still covering us with the machine gun. “What do we do about the Cheshire cat?” I look off to my left and I see the mouth open up. “Slate!” I scream. She turns back around to me but stops when she sees the thing. She aims the gun and fires a volley of bullets. The shots pass right around the mouth as if droplets of water skimming around a glass. The mouth rushes at her, opening wide as its teeth flare out like swords to widen the mouth even more. Slate fires more shots, but this time, it’s Patrick that does the saving. He tackles her around the waist and throws her to the ground as the mouth passes by. I watch as the light distortion slowly disappears far into the distance, past where the edge of the bio-dome should have been. I look at Slate and Patrick. “Guys, call me crazy, but I don’t think that thing can turn.” “Great,” Slate says. “So it takes forever to turn. What a big help.” “Well, we can make a quarter of a mile in that time,” Patrick says, turning to run along the edge of the bio-dome. “Come on!”
Previous Episode	Next Episode