THE BODY had been moved by the time the others arrived. All that remained were the walkie-talkie, rifle, and a pool of dark blood on the soil.
“Oh my God,” Lisa said, weeping uncontrollably. She stepped back as Darryl walked closer. He was unable to hold back his tears.
Jason glanced at Craig, eyeing bloodstains with a look that could cut glass.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, Jason noticed the fawn, struggling to get up. He gently lifted it into his arms, eyeing its broken leg. This time he knew he’d have to splint it by himself.
CHAPTER 81
“MAYBE WE should end this—pack it in.”
Jason’s words hung in the air. They were seated around the living room. Out of respect for Monique Hollis, they’d done nothing at all for the past twenty-four hours. Darryl’s mourning period had been powerful, intense, and was far from over. Seated on the hearth, he still looked numb, gazing down at the shiny wood floor. No one responded, and Jason nodded morosely. “I guess that’s a yes.”
Darryl turned to him, his eyes ice. “No, it’s not.”
“Darryl, we shouldn’t make emotional decisions right now.”
“Do I look emotional to you?”
A pause. “No, actually. You don’t.”
“Monique died for one reason: because that thing outsmarted us. Because we were stupid. Now we’re gonna have to outsmart it. You mark my words, Jason. I’m still gonna kill that thing. So, no, I’m not packing anything in.”
“Neither am I,” Craig said.
Jason turned to him. The Hollises were Craig’s best friends on the entire planet, people he’d literally waged war with. If Darryl wanted to fight, then so did Craig Summers. His eyes were steel. But then they turned quizzical. “Do you want to pack it in, Jason?”
“Monique was my friend, too, Craig.” Even now, Jason’s eyes were a little wet. “No, I don’t.”
Phil cleared his throat. “For what it’s worth, neither do I.”
On a couch next to Jason, Lisa was astounded by what she was hearing. “I don’t believe this. Darryl, your wife is dead.”
“Thanks for the reminder.”
“I’m sorry, it’s just… you’re not reacting to this the way I would. If we really want to kill this thing, let’s call in the National Guard.”
“That would be useless.”
“What are you talking about? They’re professional soldiers.”
“You sure about that, Soccer Mom?”
“Well… yeah.”
Craig shook his head. “They’re not even close to professional soldiers, Lisa. More like accountants and auto mechanics who do weekend drills at the local armory. You get a bunch of those guys running around here… the deaths will really start piling up.”
Darryl nodded. “Not to mention they don’t know a goddamn thing about hunting.”
“They can fire guns; they can help us. Right, Jason?”
Jason paused. “With all due respect, Lisa, I’ll defer to Darryl and Craig’s judgment on this. Just like I said I would. But from what little I know of the National Guard, I’m inclined to agree with them.”
“Then forget the National Guard. What about the SEALs, the police, the FBI?”
“The FBI?” Craig was genuinely amused, “What are they gonna do? Flash their badges and tell that thing to come out with its hands up? And what makes you think the FBI or anybody else would even believe us, Lisa? Do you realize what we’d sound like? Even if the phones did work, if we made that call… forget the National Guard, they’d be more likely to send the National Enquirer.”
“We’d have to show it to them.”
“How would we do that exactly?”
“Well… we’d have to take them out there.”
“You think that thing’s gonna pose for a picture?”
“Craig’s right,” Jason said. “No one would believe us, and with all of the back-and-forth explaining, it could take months to convince them.”
“Which we don’t have.” Darryl eyed Lisa soberly. “That thing’s out there now. If we wait just days, it could go anywhere.”
Lisa stood, glaring at Jason. “Then stay and fight it. I’ve had enough.” She walked out.
“IF YOU’RE leaving, so am I.”
Alone on her bed, Lisa looked up. Jason was standing at the doorway. “Jason, I don’t want you to leave. I know how important this is to you.”
He entered. “If you’re leaving, so am I.”
“That’s ridiculous, you’ve been waiting your whole life for something like this.”
He got in her face, softly. “If you’re leaving, so am I.”
“You’d do that for me?”
“Uh-huh.”
She exhaled. “Then I want to stay.”
“You’d do that for me?”
“As long as you don’t get us killed.”
“You and I will be fine. Remember?”
She paused. “That’s something I’ll never forget.”
He sat, and they hugged on the little bed.
“JASON, BRACE yourself. Phil might actually know how we can kill this thing.”
Jason paused as he and Lisa entered the living room. Darryl was serious. “How?”
On the easy chair, Phil leaned forward. “We need to get it out of the forest, right?”
Jason eyed him hatefully. “That’s Darryl’s call.”
Darryl nodded. “We do. Out of the forest, shooting it becomes a whole different ball game. Tell him your idea, Phil.”
Phil turned. “How do you think this thing likes heat, Jason?”
“Heat? Physical heat?”
“Yes.”
“It probably hates it. Cold as it is in the depths… It might not have evolved to deal with it.” He paused, his revulsion for Phil Martino buried by his curiosity. “What’s your idea?”
“To smoke it out. Literally.”
“How would we do that?”
“With a prescribed burn. What the rangers were planning to do here anyway.”
Jason’s eyes narrowed. “Hmm. How would that work, exactly?”
CHAPTER 82
“FIRST, I’LL show you what a prescribed burn is….” As Darryl, Jason, and Lisa watched, Phil removed the black mesh screen in front of the fireplace. “Now, all fires, whether they’re in a fireplace, a forest, whatever, need what we call ‘start-up fuel’ to ignite.”
He pointed to what was inside the fireplace, logs on top of kindling and crumpled newspaper. “Here, the start-up fuel is the newspaper and kindling. We burn the paper first, which in turn burns the kindling, which in turn burns the logs. All together, that gives us a big blaze. Simple, right? But what would happen if we removed the paper and kindling and just tried to light the logs directly? It would never burn, right? The match would burn out, and we wouldn’t get anything close to a fire.” He looked around the room. “Everybody follow?”
There were nods.
“Just like in a fireplace, forest fires start burning after the forest’s version of kindling—dried grass, dead shrubs, fallen branches—burns first. Then the trees start burning. But. If that kindling’s already been burned, then a major fire can’t even get the chance to start. That’s what a prescribed burn is, literally ‘prescribing’ a series of small fires so big, out-of-control ones don’t burn later. To put this in perspective, a lot of national and state parks started doing prescribed burns after the big Yellowstone blazes in ‘88.”
Lisa nodded. “Pretty cool.”
Phil returned the mesh screen. “And pretty easy. They’ve been doing prescribed burns at this park for years, so they were prepped for another one anyway.”