Author's note: this story is a sequel to the fondly remembered (at least by me) 1974 telefilm Killdozer, based on the novella by Theodore Sturgeon.

Chapter One

Warehouse 13 agent Pete Lattimer furrowed his brow in concentration as he looked through the glasses perched on his nose. He was staring at his partners Myka Bering and Claudia Donovan. Or rather, at their bottoms.

Myka and Claudia were bent over in front of Pete, rummaging through the lower drawers of a pair of antique filing cabinets. "I can't get them to work!" Pete said with a mixture of curiosity and disappointment. He took the glasses off and twirled them around by an earpiece.

Myka and Claudia looked at each other and burst into laughter. "What?" cried Pete, "What's so funny?"

Pete held the glasses up to the light and tapped the frames with his middle fingers before putting them back on. Myka and Claudia were both laughing so hard they had to hold on to the filing cabinets for support.

Pete concentrated again, his eyes narrowed to slits. Suddenly the image of Artie Nielsen loomed large in front of him. Startled, Pete stepped back and whisked off the glasses. Artie shrank to normal size. "Gah! Artie, don't sneak up on me like that!" protested Pete.

Artie tilted his head forward and looked at Pete over his own glasses. "What are you doing?" he asked, "Although I'm sure I don't want to know."

"These just came in!" said Pete, "They're Christopher Reeve's glasses!" His excitement was palpable.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about." replied Artie with the exasperation he reserved especially for Pete Lattimer.

Pete puffed out his chest and put his hands on his hips, elbows pointing out. "You know Superman: The Movie? These are the glasses Christopher Reeve wore in the film!" He began humming the famous Superman theme by John Williams. Myka and Claudia slid to the floor clutching their sides.

Artie shook his head and pecked at the computer keyboard in front of him. Pete offered the glasses to his boss for inspection. "They're supposed to give you x-ray vision and heat vision and all that cool stuff!"

Artie pushed aside a box containing fragments of an ornate golden scarab. He looked up at Pete."I think you've been had, Mr. Luthor." he snapped, tossing a glance at Myka and Claudia.

Pete's face turned a bright red. "Really?" he said, glaring at Myka and Claudia, "That's not even cool!"

Myka dabbed at the tears on her cheeks while Claudia beat a hasty retreat to her workstation. "Gotta work on that new artifact detection program," she said, "It'll help us weed out the bogus ones!"

Myka snorted at Claudia's remark and tried to compose herself. She stood up and adjusted a heel. "Sorry, it was Leena's idea. Something about revenge for an apple pie that someone made a midnight snack out of. An apple pie that was supposed to be for all of us."

Pete shrugged and held up his hands. "Hey, I'm a growing American boy! Besides, that's what sticky notes are for!"

Myka leaned her head to one side and glared at her partner. "If those glasses were authentic and I was wearing them, you'd be a tiny little smudge on the floor right now." She pinched a finger and thumb together to emphasize just how tiny a smudge Pete would be.

Artie blew through pursed lips. "Are you two done yet?"

Pete dropped the glasses on his desk and protested. "C'mon Artie! You really gonna let them get away with this? I mean, shouldn't they have to go after Elvis' toilet or something?"

Artie crossed his arms and let slip a wry smile. "I'm quite fond of Leena's homemade apple pie," he said, "Besides, we already have Elvis' toilet." Claudia leered at Pete and made a plunging motion with her hands. Myka snorted again.

Artie turned back to his computer and briefly studied the screen. He jabbed at the keyboard. "Now, if I can have your attention," he said, emphasizing the last word in his sentence, "You have a new mission."

A printer rattled and spit out a stream of paper. Artie held up a defiant finger. "And no, Claudia isn't going."

Claudia sat back in her chair and mimicked Artie silently.

Artie arched an eyebrow and continued. "Anyway, Claudia isn't going because Professor Jones is coming for another visit and he'll need a chaperone. I don't want him roaming around the Warehouse alone. We don't need another incident with Manolete's whip."

Claudia immediately protested. "Seriously, Artie? The Mogwai is bad enough! The Professor is like two hundred years old! You can't do this!" She spun around in her seat. "I knew I should have taken that ENCOM job!"

"We going after Typhoid Mary's apple pie recipe?" asked Myka, steering the conversation back on course. Now it was Claudia's turn to snort.

Artie ignored them. "You're going to retrieve a rather atypical artifact." he said as he organized the scattered pages.

"An out of the ordinary artifact?" replied Myka, her interest piqued, "I didn't know there was such a thing. I mean, atypical pretty much defines our inventory."

Artie gave Myka a stern look. "The only thing typical of this artifact is that it may be dangerous," he said, "Other than that we've got nothing."

Pete was playing with the glasses again. "More deadly than Elvis' toilet?" he quipped.

Artie shook his head. "It's a piece of construction equipment. It's..."

Pete interrupted Artie. "Wait!" he shouted, pressing the tips of his fingers against his temples, "Let me guess! John Henry's hammer?"

Artie rubbed his head in frustration. "No, we've already got that too, Mr. Neverstudiestheinventory. This artifact is an old caterpillar D9, a bulldozer. An apparently malefic bulldozer to be precise."

Claudia started humming the theme from the Twilight Zone.

"Malefic?" Pete chewed on the word and spit it out slowly. "That means bad doesn't it?"

Artie handed the sheaf of papers to Myka. "If six men dead is bad, then yes, it means bad. It's all in that report. The short of it is this: forty years ago the bulldozer was shipped to a small Pacific island by the now defunct Warburton Construction company. A six man crew was carving out an airstrip there. Apparently the bulldozer started operating on its own. It went after the men and killed them. Only the foreman and one other man survived."

"No way!" laughed Pete in disbelief, "A killer bulldozer? A killdozer?"

Artie sighed and imagined Pete flailing under the treads of an evil bulldozer.

"Ha! Made you laugh!" said Pete as he quick drew on Artie with his index finger.

"Hardly," stated Artie indignantly, "Anyway, when relief made it to the island, the two remaining men claimed the bulldozer had simply malfunctioned. The company mechanics went over it and found nothing amiss. Some peculiar comments were later teased out of the foreman but as he had an alcohol problem they were dismissed. By that time the other man had already disappeared."

"You said six men died?" queried Myka, rifling through the report.

"I did," answered Artie, "The bulldozer was shipped back to the states and stored in a company warehouse in California."

Pete rubbed his stomach. "Hey, you still have those cookies in your desk?" he asked Artie.

Artie started growling. He really wanted to hit Pete over the head with that empty pie pan.

Myka took over and began reading from the report. "A rumor had started that the bulldozer was haunted so company operators refused to use it." Pete remained unfazed by Artie's glare. "A haunted bulldozer! Maybe it's the ghost of Jeb Stuart!"

Artie, Myka and Claudia exchanged tired glances and shrugged their shoulders in unison. Pete's nerdy references were often obtuse.

Myka read on. "The bulldozer was said to be in perfect working order but sat unused in the warehouse until Warburton folded last month. It was sold at auction to Sandoval Construction of Los Angeles. Apparently it's a small company that can't afford top of the line models."

Claudia giggled and looked at Artie. "Neither can we!"

Pete put the faux glasses back on and zapped Artie with pretend heat vision. Artie looked singularly unamused. "Continue!" he grumped, waving his hand at Myka. Pete shrugged and filed the useless glasses in a wastebasket.

"So Sandoval puts the bulldozer to work," related Myka, "And two men end up dead. Run over and pulped. They had to pick them out of the treads. Witnesses say no one was driving when the accident happened. They also stated that the bulldozer changed course several times, as if it were operating on its own. Then it just shut down."

Artie finished for Myka. "And again, mechanics could find nothing wrong with the machine. Sandoval wants to wash his hands of the thing so we got called in."

Myka nodded. "How did Sandoval know to call us?"

"The FBI sent two agents to investigate the incident," said Artie, "They seemed to think this is something we should handle. I'll arrange for a driver and truck to meet you at Sandoval's place in Los Angeles. You'll bring it back here."

Pete frowned and scratched his head. "Hell of an accident. How do two men just get run over by a bulldozer? I mean, they're not very fast. They're not exactly Christine if you know what I mean!"

Artie pointed to the door. "Leave! Just go! Leena has your plane tickets. First class for Myka, coach for you!"

"Hey, that's not fair! I'm too big for coach!" exclaimed Pete.

Myka grabbed Pete by an arm and pulled him through the door. "Don't worry," she said, "I'll send you back a piece of pie!"

Pete held on to the door's handle. "I won't forget about this! I'm telling Mrs. Frederic!"

Myka tugged Pete loose and the door swung shut. Artie embraced the silence with a satisfied smile. "And that's how we deal with pie thieves." he said with a chuckle. Claudia wanted to high five him but thought better of it.

Chapter Two

Pete wolfed down the last bite of his double cheeseburger and picked up the few french fries remaining on his plate. He pointed them at Myka. "You know, I'm thinking cherry pie for dessert!" The fries disappeared with a gulp. Pete scanned a dessert menu. "Yep, no cookies. Pie it is!"

Myka prodded her pathetic-looking salad with a fork as Pete flagged down their waitress. Healthy fare obviously wasn't the diner's specialty. That's what she got for letting Pete pick the place. Big Jeff's. Probably rated five stars in the Greasy Spoon Guide. The next time they were in Eureka they would have to stop by Cafe Diem. The food there was excellent.

Myka pushed her salad aside and picked up the bill. "Sorry, no room in the expense account for dessert!"

The waitress glided over and took the bill from Myka's hand. "Anything else for ya?" she asked.

Myka smiled. "Yes, actually, I'd like a piece of cherry pie to go."

Pete punched the air in victory. Myka had a heart after all!

Myka finished off the piece of cherry pie just as her sulking partner turned their rental car into the parking lot of Sandoval Construction. "Mmm," she said dreamily, "Reminds me of this FBI guy I once dated. Kinda weird, but cute. He loved cherry pie!"

Pete tapped the brakes harder than he needed to as he found a parking spot. The empty pie box tumbled to the floor. "Can we just forget about the pie?" he asked, putting on his best exasperated face.

It wasn't as if Pete could really be angry at the partner who'd saved his life more times than he cared to remember. But it was fun to pretend.

Pete looked at Myka with a Cheshire grin. "Forget the pie and I'll forget the glasses gag, okay?" he said, "Besides, I've seen your butt before and it's way too bony for my tastes!"

"My butt is not bony!" scolded Myka. She slammed the car door and straightened her skirt.

"Not after eating that pie!" laughed Pete as he shouldered their bags. A glum-looking Sandoval employee stood nearby, smoking a cigarette. He dropped the butt and ground it out with his booted heel. He seemed put off by their humor.

"Hey, pal!" called Pete, "We're here to see Mr. Jose Sandoval."

The man jerked a thumb towards the doors behind him. "Office is in there," he said morosely, "That's where you'll find him."

Before Pete could thank him, the man trudged off in the opposite direction without looking back.

"So much for California sunshine." said Pete.

"Two dead co-workers will do that to you." replied Myka as she pushed through the office doors.

Pete's face dropped. "Yeah. Way to be a downer, Myka."

An elderly secretary was sitting behind a desk reading a dog-eared Robin Masters paperback. She put the book down and scoured Pete and Myka with tired eyes. "Ah, more agents. Mr. Sandoval will be with you shortly," she said, "Please have a seat."

"It's the suits!" whispered Pete, "That's how they know. Why can't we dress casual?"

Myka sat down and closed her eyes, letting the air conditioning caress her face. It felt good to be out of the heat, even though they were probably jumping out of the proverbial frying pan again. She hoped this case wouldn't turn into another Crystal Lake fiasco. Myka hated homicidal artifacts.

Pete flopped down beside Myka and plucked a children's magazine from a rack. "Bob the Builder!" he exclaimed, "Aw, I've read this one before."

He put the magazine back in the rack and scanned the other titles. Then his eyes lit up as a random thought surfaced. "Hey, you think those Fringe Division people will show up again?"

Myka smiled. "One can only hope." She tried to hide her feelings from her partner's extraordinary senses, the accute perception that Pete called his "vibes."

Pete couldn't resist the urge to tease his partner. "Oh, come on! That guy with the weirdo dad? Not even hot. Now that blonde? Sca-rumptious!"

Myka cleared her throat and discretely motioned for Pete to turn around.

Pete pivoted in his seat and looked up at a middle-aged hispanic man standing before them.

"I am Jose Sandoval." the man said. Sandoval had an odd look on his face. "You are the agents I'm expecting?"

"Yes." replied Myka, brushing a crumb from her lapel. Sandoval's strange expression was making her self-conscious. "I'm Bering, he's Lattimer."

Sandoval cleared his throat. "Please excuse me, but I am old-fashioned. Does the government always send men and women together now?"

"We're just partners!" insisted Pete.

Sandoval smiled. "It is just that the FBI agents who came earlier were also a man and a woman. They are the ones who contacted your people and cleared this with the local policia."

Pete and Myka looked at each other. "Crazy like a Fox?" asked Pete. Myka nodded in agreement.

Sandoval was confused by the exchange but decided not to pursue it. Government agents were definitely a strange bunch!

"Please follow me," Sandoval asked, "I will show you what you've come for."

Sandoval walked Pete and Myka to a cavernous garage situated behind his offices. The cinderblock building squatted before them like a giant beast of prey.

Pete studied the garage through narrowed eyes. He massaged the back of his head and cleared his throat. Myka knew something was wrong.

"You okay?" asked Myka, "Getting a bad vibe?"

Pete shook his head. "No, just thinking about cookies."

Myka sighed and turned to Sandoval. "Sorry, Pete has finely-tuned senses which can be helpful in our line of work. Unfortunately they're too often attuned to his stomach."

Sandoval smiled and hooked his thumbs in his belt. "Si, I understand. I have been home very little since the accident. I miss my wife's cooking."

Myka put on her serious face. "Can we just concentrate on the buisness at hand?" she asked.

"Says the woman who had dessert!" griped Pete. He dodged an evil Myka stare. "Hey, do you really need me to tell you this place has bad karma?"

A lone security guard stood in front of a red door that seemed patched on the drab gray wall of the garage. Jose Sandoval approached the man and clasped his shoulder. "Anything to report, Jesse?"

The guard shrugged. "Nada, senor. All is quiet."

Sandoval nodded. "These are the people I told you about. They're with the government. They're here to take the D9 away."

The guard made the sign of the cross and studied Pete and Myka. "Muy bueno. I hope you send that evil thing to hell!" He stood aside as his boss pulled open the door.

The aged and battered D9 was bathed in the harsh radiance of a single spotlight. Fans droned but only circulated the stifling air inside the garage. Somewhere in the gloom chirped a lonely cricket.

Pete studied the bulldozer. "Doesn't seem too dangerous," he remarked as he smacked the side of the earthmover, "Hello? How's it going, big yellow buddy?"

Myka kicked Pete. "Manners!" she hissed.

"Oh, sorry," whispered Pete, "Two dead men. Gotcha."

Myka pulled a small device from her purse and flicked a switch on its side. Pinpoints of color danced on her face as a row of lights blinked on.

"What's that?" asked Pete, awed by the colorful lights.

"This is an AED." replied Myka, aggravated by Pete's usual ignorance concerning the tools of their trade. "AED is short for Autonomous Energy Detector."

Pete's face lit up. "A ghost detector! I knew it!"

Jose Sandoval loosened his tie and swallowed. "Are you saying the bulldozer is truly haunted?"

"I don't know about haunted," replied Myka as she studied the AED, "But from your statements in the police report, we can't rule out some kind of energy surge or presence."

Sandoval studied her words. "But the D9 was shut down at the time of the accident!" he insisted, "And my mechanics confirmed that the machine works perfectly!"

Pete interrupted. "So what exactly happened?" he asked, "Go over it again."

Sandoval wiped his brow with a handerchief. "It happened at the Nakatomi Memorial site. Ah, we were so lucky to get that contract! The two men, Israel and Martin, were clearing brush. Suddenly the D9 turned itself on and ran over Martin."

Sandoval stared into space for a minute and then continued. "Israel jumped on the D9 to turn it off but he fell when the D9 turned. Then it backed up and crushed him. Three other men saw it happen. They are reliable men."

Sandoval's despair was palpable. Pete turned his head away. This was one of those times when his gift became a curse.

Myka held the AED out in front of her, scanning the length of the D9. The device buzzed once. Myka studied its digital readout and wrinkled her nose. "Thought it registered something there for a second. Now the scan reads negative."

"Guess we won't be calling Venkman and his guys," said Pete with a grin, "Too bad, they're a lot of fun!" His smile faded as the oppressive atmosphere inside the garage blunted his words. Sandoval remained crestfallen.

"This is just a field instrument," replied Myka as she gently tapped the AED, "There are more sensitive ones back at the Warehouse." She turned to Sandoval. "I'm sorry for your loss, but is there anything else you can add?"

"Nada," said Sandoval wearily, "We brought the D9 back here with no trouble. And here it has sat until you come." He pulled his tie off and stuffed it in a pocket. "I lost two good men and my buisness is ruined. No good anymore."

Myka nodded in sympathy, noticing that Pete seemed distracted. "You're giving up?" Myka asked Sandoval.

"Si," stated Sandoval, "I gave what money I had to the families of Martin and Israel. There is not much left over."

Pete was now staring intently into the engine casing of the D9.

"The government will reimburse you for the D9," Myka said to Sandoval, "Will that help?"

Sandoval shook his head. "Only a little. Not enough. I could go back to work for Omni Consumer Products but they are muy malo. I did not like working for them."

Sandoval tapped a shovel that was propped against a support pillar and watched as it clattered to the ground. Then he turned and stared off into the darkness, lost in thought. Myka left him alone. There was nothing more she could offer him.

"Got anything?" whispered Myka as she tugged discretely on Pete's jacket.

Pete lightly touched the D9's tread. "Just some bad mojo." he replied. He studied a dark red stain that ran the length of the tread. "Very bad mojo. I'm starting to think I should have taken that Rosen guy up on his offer."

Myka grinned and punched Pete in the arm. "Yeah, but where you gonna find another partner like me?"

Pete smiled at Myka's words and turned back to the D9. "You know, if this thing is legit, we're gonna need a swimming pool full of goo!"

"Hello?" called the guard. He'd poked his head inside the garage and was poised to slam the door at a moment's notice. "Senor Sandoval? There are others. They say they are here to meet the agents."

Myka shoved the AED back into her purse. "That must be our ride." she said.

"Shotgun!" cried Pete.

"I hate you." mouthed Myka.

They hurriedly filed out of the garage, a dejected Jose Sandoval shuffling behind them. He looked back at the D9 and cursed it silently. "El diablo!"

Alone again, the D9 shuddered. Something deep inside the machine roused itself. The engine coughed and sputtered. The bulldozer exuded a faint blue light that quickly retreated.

The energy being that haunted the D9 had lain dormant for a long time. For millions of years it had tumbled through space, trapped on a misshapen ball of rock. Drifting through infinity.

By chance the rock had crashed on this world of roiling oceans and perambulating meat. The energy being found itself on a dot of land surrounded by the choking mixture of hydrogen and oxygen that covered much of the world. Trapped, it decided to sleep again. After another long time the soft creatures came with their machines.

The energy being hated the soft creatures. Hated their meaty wetness. Fortunately the machines they made were good hiding places and easy to control. It wasn't difficult for the energy being to transfer itself from its host rock to one such machine. After that it was easy to kill the disgusting soft creatures. Or so it thought.

The soft creatures had learned to make use of what they called electricity. A primal force in the universe, it could be deadly to the energy being if enough current were applied. The soft creatures had nearly destroyed it with electricity.

The attack by the soft creatures had left the energy being stunned. After a little time it had awakened to find itself immersed in a sea of soft creatures. It had killed several of them before it realized its predicament. The soft creatures had tamed electricity. They lived with it. The energy being was trapped again.

The energy being longed for the hard open spaces this world possessed. Places of rock where it could roam unconfined by the suffocating oceans. It wanted to leave the machine it inhabited and find a hiding place far from the soft creatures and their electricity. Then it could begin to multiply. It would have to bide its time.

Chapter Three

"Whew!" exclaimed Pete. "I am glad to be out of there!"

Myka plucked a vial of perfume from her purse and spritzed herself. "Me too," she said, "Unfortunately we still have a long haul in front of us. And that thing is going with us."

A man in a suit intercepted them. "Excuse me? I'm with Hertz. I'm here for the car."

Pete dug in his pocket and tossed the keys to the rental agent. "If you find a cherry pie stain, bill it to the skirt!" he replied with a chuckle.

A flatbed truck was parked near the garage, its engine ticking. Someone was shouting on the other side of the truck. "I told you to leave!"

Pete and Myka looked at each other. The voice was familiar.

Car doors slammed and tires squealed. A Mercedes-Benz roared past the Warehouse 13 agents. Another shout. "Try Antarctica next time!"

Pete groaned. "Not her!"

Jo Lupo, deputy sheriff of Eureka, Oregon, strolled out from behind the truck. "Bering and Letterman!" she called out, "How's it going? You ready to roll?"

Pete cringed. "It's Lattimer," he reminded her, "Letterman isn't as funny as me."

Jo ignored Pete. "You still hanging out with this chump?" she asked Myka.

"Well, you know how it is, he's good for a few laughs." replied Myka.

"Forget this!" cried Pete, throwing his arms in the air, "I'm walking home!"

"Chill out, Leiter!" laughed Jo.

"Lattimer!" hissed Pete, "I don't work for the CIA!"

Jo grabbed Pete's arm and squeezed. "You ready for another arm wrestling match?" she asked, "I could use the money!"

Myka chimed in. "Jo, don't tease him. The last time you beat him he ate spinach for a month! I swear his teeth turned green!"

Jo showed off her biceps. "I yam what I yam!" she rasped. Myka burst into laughter.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up!" snarled Pete, "Now what's going on? Who was in that car?"

Jo held out a finger until she caught her breath. "Couple of punks from Weyland-Yutani," she said, "They're always nosing around looking for little green men."

Pete shook his head. "Whatever. Why are you here? This is Warehouse buisness. I remember when this job used to be secret!"

"I told Sheriff Carter I wanted a vacation. Then he got a call from Mr. Nielson," explained Jo, "That's why I'm here. I'm driving you back to your secret little clubhouse. I would have been here sooner but I had to drop off a package in Hill Valley."

Myka was giving the truck the once over. "You can drive that behemoth?" she asked Jo incredulously.

"Sure thing!" replied Jo, "That's how I got such big muscles!"

Pete stepped in front of her with his arms crossed. "No, really, why are you here?"

Jo dangled the keys in front of Pete. "Seriously! I'm driving you back. And for services rendered, Henry gets to check out that D9. He's a curious kind of guy."

Pete shot her a look of contempt. "We throw you Global Dynamics guys a few cookies and now you want the whole jar."

Jo reached out and fiddled with Pete's tie. "Not steppin' on your toes, Lassiter. Just doing my job!" She yanked on the tie. "Where'd you get this suit? S-Mart?"

Pete brushed her hand away. "Hey, I shop smart!" he protested, "And at least I don't order my dresses from Guns & Ammo!"

"Too bad," replied Jo, "I think you'd look good in a camo skirt!"

"This may not be much of a vacation," Myka warned Jo, "It could be dangerous."

Jo scoffed at Myka's concern. "Hey, I live in Eureka, remember? Besides, they're throwing a big party for this Banzai physicist guy who's coming to town. Who wants to hang out with another stuffy egghead? Not me!"

"Great!" muttered Pete, "So we get a five state road trip with Lara Croft!"

Jo patted her holster. "You'd rather have some schmuck with a monkey drive you back? You're just jealous because I have a bigger arsenal than you!"

Pete couldn't resist. "It's not your arsenal that's..."

Myka pinched his arm hard. "Pete! You want her to put you in a chokehold again?"

"That hurt!" hissed Pete. He rubbed his arm and threw Myka a sullen look.

"Um, excuse me." said Jose Sandoval, "I think I heard something in the garage."

Jo drew her gun. "Out of the way, Cuervo!"

Sandoval looked perturbed. "My name is Sandoval." But Jo was gone, advancing on the red door.

"Scram!" she hissed at the guard who seemed more than happy to comply. He ambled off and hid behind a nearby dumpster.

Jo put her ear to the door. Pete walked up and held it shut with his palm. "You really gonna shoot a bulldozer?" he asked.

"It's not a good day if I don't get to shoot something," replied Jo, "And I'm not picky!" She blew across the barrel of her gun and stared at Pete.

"Just chill!" said Pete, "I'm not feeling anything. I think it's okay."

"I got this, LaMotta." said Jo as she pushed Pete's hand away and pulled open the door. She marched inside the garage, gun at the ready.

"Jo, be careful!" whispered Myka harshly. She and Pete were tentatively following in Jo's footsteps.

"I eat careful for breakfast." snapped Jo. The D9 sat in front of them, unmoving and silent. Jo walked up and peered under its belly. Then she checked the engine casing. "Nope," she called back, "No little green men!"

Pete turned his head to Myka and rolled his eyes. "Sheriff Carter? No longer on my Christmas list!" Myka was aghast. Poor Carter! To be deprived of one of Pete's homemade fruitcakes! Well, there was always the one from last year. And the year before.

Jo holstered her gun and climbed up into the bulldozer's cab. She plopped a safety helmet on her head and grinned. "Let's get this show on the road, amigos!" Shining as she did under the spotlight, Jo seemed to be nothing short of an angel.

A wary Jose Sandoval pushed a button on the wall of the garage. Two men stood next to Sandoval. The guard Jesse, and a bulldozer operator named Aurelio. Neither man wanted to be there. They had both seen the blood when it was fresh on the D9's treads.

With a shriek the oversized garage door began to clamber noisily upwards. Jose Sandoval shifted nervously as the door ground to a halt with an echoing boom. Jesse and Aurelio looked at each other. Were they loosing a devil on the world?

Jo Lupo, still astride the D9, put her sunglasses on. She reached down and flicked a switch on the control panel in front of her.

"She's not..." groaned Pete.

"She is." replied Myka. Jo turned the ignition and the D9 roared to life.

"She can drive a bulldozer," said an awestruck Myka, "Nice."

The bulldozer lurched forward, belching smoke. "Sorry, little rusty!" shouted Jo over the noise.

Jose Sandoval wiped his face with a handkerchief. Jesse and Aurelio peered in from their hiding spots on opposite sides of the door.

"So Dora's a lot butch," observed Pete with semi-approval, "Who would have thought?" Luckily Myka didn't hear him.

The D9 proved unproblematic as Jo maneuvered it onto the flatbed. She turned the engine off and the bulldozer settled quietly.

"Go on, I'm still paying you!" chided Sandoval as he corralled Jesse and Aurelio, "Help her with the chains! Will you let a woman shame you?" Both men walked slowly up the ramp to the flatbed, warily eyeing the D9. A clatter froze them in their tracks.

"My bad!" hollered Jo, "Dropped the helmet!"

Pete and Myka watched Jo and Sandoval's men chain the D9 to the flatbed. "You're not going to help her?" asked Myka.

"Looks like Deputy Selena's got this in the bag." said Pete with just a bit of a smirk. He'd really been watching a Doublemeat Palace across the way. "Hey, you hungry?"

Myka watched the rearview mirror as Los Angeles receded into the distance. Pete was stuffing his face as usual. Jo shifted gears and the truck accelerated. The D9 seemed content, laying on the flatbed like an old yellow dog enjoying the sunshine.

Maybe the D9 was exactly what it appeared to be: an antique bulldozer with a history of tragic but explainable accidents. But, as Myka had learned from experience, thinking like that about artifacts could get you killed.

Pete scarfed down the last bit of his Doublemeat Medley. "Don't know what you're missing, girls!" He smacked his lips but thought better of licking his greasy fingers.

"Yes we do." said Myka queasily. She studied the rearview mirror again. She kept thinking of Jose Sandoval. He'd waved goodbye to them but it had been the halfhearted gesture of a defeated man. She wished she could trade him the D9 for one of the luckier artifacts squirreled away in the Warehouse.

The truck swayed gently as its wheels thrummed, eating up the miles. Bored, Pete reached out and jabbed a button on the dashboard. The radio squawked on. "...Tyrell Corporation, the world leader in biological engineering! Now back to the game!"

Jo leaned over and shut the radio off. "Oh no, Vladimir. You haven't lived until you've heard my rendition of One Million Bottles of Beer on the Wall!"

The energy being inside the D9 roused itself. The mass of soft creatures had been left behind. No longer was it confined to a prison humming with deadly electricity. It could deal with the tiny amount of electricity generated by the bulldozer's engine but the city of soft creatures was alive with the stuff. Soon the energy being would be able to leave its host.

Chapter Four

Myka awoke with a start. A sign reading "You are now leaving the town of Perfection, Nevada. Have a nice day!" whizzed past. She'd slept all of Nevada away.

Pete and Jo were still arguing. "No, Sharpe beats Doctor Who any day of the week!" stated Jo. She blew the truck's air horn and cursed a slow driver. The truck shuddered as she tapped its brakes.

"You sure you have a license to drive this thing?" asked Pete.

"Hey, I learned from the best!" said Jo with a laugh, "Friend of Taggart's named Max!"

Another sign flashed by. "Sturgeon, Utah 100 miles." Myka wondered why anyone would name a town in Utah after a fish. Were there sturgeon in Utah? She was really too sleepy to give it much thought. She picked up and studied several paperbacks Pete had loaned her to pass the time: "The True Story of the Werewolf of London!" by Alex Price and "A Study of Alien Incursions" by Professor Bernard Quatermass. Neither suited Myka's interests. Her job was crazy enough without fanciful fictions.

"Hey, can we stop in Fishville?" asked Pete, "I haven't eaten anything since we stopped in Santa Mira."

Jo cocked her head. "Admit that I'm right. Sharpe rules."

Myka put the paperbacks on the dashboard and yawned. May as well take another nap she figured. The bickering between Pete and Jo had lost its charm. Blissful slumber would spare her from having to listen to more of it.

An hour and a half passed. Myka was sleeping soundly again, contrary to the spartan interior of the truck's cab. Sturgeon was spread out in front of them. What there was of it. "Not much of a place." muttered Pete as he shielded his eyes from the sun with cupped hands.

Sturgeon was maybe a square mile of isolated seediness with most of its dilapidated buildings clustered along a sleepy main drag. A faded sign promised that the rather incongruous Dixie Boy Truck Stop made the best burgers in Utah. Just outside of town an access road stretched off into the distance, terminating in a hazy confluence of industrial structures. A nondescript sign identified the site as a Cyberdyne production facility, "Building a better future!"

A sparkling new housing subdivision lay on the opposite side of the road from the Cyberdyne complex, girdled by a high wooden privacy fence as if to ward off Sturgeon's decrepitude. Another, more inviting sign, identified the swath of homes as housing for Cyderdyne employees. The future had come to Sturgeon. Pete figured it was about time.

"Mmm, double cheeseburger!" said Jo as she spied the truck stop.

"Now you're talking my language!" replied Pete as he patted his chest, "Now wake up Myka. She won't want to miss this!"

The energy being came alive. The distant mountains beckoned. It only needed to free itself from the bindings of the soft creatures.

"Now where was I?" said Jo. She was busy demolishing a Dixie Boy burger. "Oh yeah! So me and this guy Snake are wrestling and I accidentally jab him in the eye with my thumb!"

Myka sighed and pushed away her plate of bland chicken and rice. She longed for a hot bath, good food, and pleasant conversation. She was tired of the constant squabbling. She imagined Pete and Jo being swarmed by a squadron of flying silver spheres, each one armed with a brain-piercing drill. Unfortunately, while such deadly artifacts did exist, they were locked away in an obscure Warehouse vault.

Jo continued her story. "To this day he wears an eyepatch!"

Pete chuckled and started his own story. "Okay, so I'm hanging out with George Taylor the astronaut and his OSI buddy at a government function. We're all drinking and bored and decide to go to this redneck place I know about."

Jo blew through her straw, making bubbles in her soda. "Boring!" she said.

"It gets better!" promised Pete, "The hicks are having an arm wrestling tournament. OSI guy enters and cleans up, so I'm thinkin' he's pretty spry for an older guy, right? Later I come to find out he has a freakin' bionic arm!"

Jo blew more bubbles. "That's nothing," she retorted, "Remember Deputy Andy? Totally a robot!"

Pete grimaced. "Pfft! Robots! When I was a kid my dad took me to this theme park that had robot cowboys. While we were there the place had a major meltdown! I hate robots!"

Myka hid behind a dessert menu. Maybe a hot fudge sundae would make her feel better. Then a scream cut through the chatter and jukebox country music. Myka slapped the menu down in a huff. What now?

The energy being drove the D9 forward, straining against its chains. Then it lurched in reverse, jerking the chains to their limits. Forward again. The rear chains snapped. The soft creatures around it were chittering and mewling. Some of them cried out in fear. The energy being wanted to crush them. Reverse again. The forward chains broke. The soft creatures ran away.

Jo had parked the truck in the rear of the parking lot, a section that abutted a low ridge. The drop between the bed of the truck and the ridge was only a few feet. The four foot gap between the left side of the truck and the ridge was surmountable for the bulldozer.

The energy being pivoted the D9 to the left and shot forward, bridging the distance easily. The bulldozer landed hard but intact and roared off in a cloud of dust and exhaust fumes. Before it lay the picture perfect subdivision and beyond that, the mountains and freedom.

Myka, Pete and Jo pushed through the crowd of people outside the Dixie Boy. "Ain't this just like Eureka?" shouted Jo.

"Anyone bring a bazooka?" asked Pete.

"Yeah, in my purse." Myka replied sarcastically.

Jo turned and looked at them. "Actually, I did!" She jogged over to the truck and yanked open the door. She reached behind the seat and pulled out an antique M1 bazooka. "Never leave home without it!" she said confidently, "Consider that bulldozer toast!"

Jo handed the M1 to Pete and rummaged through a knapsack. Pete studied the bazooka at arm's length. "Happy birthday Jo! Love, Dutch Schaefer" was painted in bright yellow on the old weapon.

"Don't be jealous, Lecter," said Jo, holding up a single rocket like she'd struck gold, "He's just an old friend."

Pete wrinkled his face. "Just admiring the old girl!" he replied, "We have one back at the Warehouse that belonged to..."

"Guys!" shouted Myka, "Um, rogue bulldozer?" She was pointing the AED towards the retreating D9. They watched as it crashed through the privacy fence that encircled the nearby subdivision.

"Guys, I'm getting a really strange reading from that thing." said Myka.

"Ya think?" replied Pete.

A black SUV screeched to a halt beside them. The driver, a good-looking man with curly brown hair, leaned his head out the window. "Hey, you need a ride?"

Jo snatched the bazooka from Pete. "Yeah, thanks buddy! We'll need to commandeer your vehicle!"

The man shook his head. "Just get in!" he snapped.

"Jo, don't argue!" said Myka. She got in behind the driver.

"Shotgun!" cried Jo as she and Pete raced for the other side of the SUV. Pete lost.

"Michael, that woman is carrying a bazooka." came a voice from the dashboard as Jo settled in beside the driver.

"It's okay, I'm a cop!" said Jo, not giving the mysterious voice a second thought. She did after all, live in Eureka.

"Punch it, KITT," said the driver, "After that bulldozer!" The SUV accelerated rapidly, its onboard computer calculating the fastest course to intercept the D9. Less than a minute later it turned into the subdivision and screeched to a halt. The D9 could be seen up ahead, apparently confused by the jumble of homes it had invaded.

"Thanks for the ride, pal!" said Jo as she scrambled out, "We'll take it from here!"

The driver threw her a salute. "No problem!"

Jo shouldered the bazooka and jogged away. "Have a nice day, officer." intoned the SUV.

"Nice ride!" hollered Pete as the SUV rocketed away, "Hey Myka, you okay?"

Myka stood unsteadily. "No, I hate rollercoasters!"

Confusion. The energy being could sense the freedom of the towering rocks ahead. But once again it found itself surrounded by the soft creatures. It wanted to crush them but knew they could be dangerous. Electricity coursed all around it. It had to escape before the soft creatures recovered and attacked.

Jo stood panting and watched as the D9 rumbled towards the edge of the subdivision. Panicked residents scrambled out of its way. The bulldozer rolled up a driveway and into an open garage. It plowed through the back of the garage and kept going. Pete and Myka caught up to Jo and watched as the D9 rumbled away.

"Stringfellow, where are you when I need you?" Jo was saying to herself.

"Beg pardon?" asked Pete.

"Nothing," replied Jo, "Just wishing for a little air support. Now come on!" She took off running again. "Big Bird ain't gonna blow itself up!"

The D9 brought its blade down, crushing a car and setting off its alarm.

"Someone's a little testy." said Pete.

The D9 reversed itself, slamming into another car. Another alarm shrieked, adding to the din.

"It just needs to hold still for a second." muttered Jo as she shouldered the bazooka and took aim.

"Jo, wait!" shouted Myka as she furiously waved away a few straggling residents, "Federal agents! You people get out of here!"

Myka paused as she heard a police siren. A cruiser flashing red and blue whipped around a corner and screeched to a halt in front of the rampaging bulldozer.

"I can't watch!" cried Pete.

The energy being was furious. Most of the soft creatures had fled but their machines and their dwellings impeded its progress. Another machine rolled up, blocking it. A soft creature emerged from the machine, gibbering and gesticulating as its kind always did. The energy being decided to crush it.

"Turn that thing off and climb..." ordered the police officer. His command trailed off as he realized the bulldozer had no driver.

"Get out of there!" screamed Myka. The officer tried to back away but it was too late. The D9 revved its engine and surged forward, slamming into the cruiser and sending the cop flying.

"Myka, help him! I'll distract it," yelled Pete, "Jo, you know what to do!" Pete ran at the D9 waving his hands as Myka sprinted away.

"Hey! Over here!" screamed Pete. The D9 halted its attack on the smashed cruiser. "Oh crap!" said Pete. His life was now in Jo's hands.

Jo readied her bazooka. "Should have brought the one John got me," she muttered, "It was much bigger."

Pete watched as Myka skirted the zone of destruction. The D9 didn't seem to notice her. She reached the wounded officer. He was alive but badly hurt. As Myka grabbed his hands to pull him to safey he cried out in pain. The D9 pivoted again, blade pointed at Myka and the downed cop. Myka froze.

Pete reached down and picked up a fist-sized stone from a flower bed. "You like rocks? Eat this!" he shouted, hurling his lowly missile as hard as he could. It clunked against the side of the D9 and dropped to the ground.

Once again the bulldozer turned and faced Pete. Myka quickly dragged the injured officer to a safe distance. She waved at Pete and Jo and pulled her trigger finger.

"Do it, Jo!" cried Pete. He could hear sirens in the distance. "Blow that thing up before it eats more locals!"

Jo pulled the bazooka's trigger a second too late. The D9 jerked a foot to the left and the rocket glanced off its blade without exploding. It hit the ground and rolled under the badly damaged police cruiser.

"Cripes!" exclaimed Pete as he watched in disbelief, "A dud!" The police car exploded with a bang and a whoosh, its still-flashing lights pinwheeling through the sky.

"No, just a little late to the party!" shouted Jo.

The sirens were getting closer. "Hope they're bringing a tank." said Pete.

"Run!" shouted Jo as she drew her gun and fired several shots. The bulldozer ignored the stinging pellets and began chugging towards them. They could swear it was growling. Pete turned and ran after Jo.

The energy being inside the D9 was furious. Freedom was close but the soft creatures were proving to be a real threat. It had to smash them.

"Go left!" hollered Jo, motioning Pete away from her. She shot at the oncoming D9 and jogged to the right. The bulldozer followed Jo's course, slamming aside another hapless car. A wooden utility pole blocked its way. The D9 raised its blade slightly and rammed the pole. The pole splintered and wilted to the ground in a shower of sparks as the power lines hanging from it snapped.

Jo was backed up against the side of a house, trapped by the writhing lines. Secretly she wished she'd vacationed at Roarke's island again. Or maybe Isla Nublar. But she'd never let Pete know how frightened she was.

Pete looked on helplessly. There were no windows Jo could use to get to safety. He saw her flinch as the power lines popped and hissed. The D9 suddenly reversed itself as one of the downed cables snaked towards it spitting electricity.

"Come on!" hollered Jo, "Don't run away now!"

Pete had to hand it to Jo. She was hardcore.

The soft creatures were once again using electricity to attack it. The energy being was wary now. It knew it should flee but it wanted so badly to crush the soft creature that taunted it. It wanted to hear the soft creature scream as it smashed it to a pulp. What disgusting things the soft creatures were!

Pete stood frozen, thinking. He could see Myka out of the corner of his eye. She was safe for the present, administering to the hurt cop as best she could. Jo's situation however, was critical. The bulldozer was focused on her but seemed afraid of the power lines. Afraid of the electricity?

Pete pulled out his Tesla. "Myka!" he screamed, pointing to his weapon, "Get over here! I think we can zap it!" Myka jogged over, Tesla drawn.

"I don't think it likes electricity." Pete told her. Indeed, the D9 was backing away as the power lines whipped back and forth in front of it. It stopped at a safe distance and seemed to study the cracking lines. Then it moved forward again, taking a circular route to get to Jo.

"Now, Myka! Full power!" screamed Pete.

Pete and Myka aimed and fired their Teslas simultaneously. Twin streams of electricity arced towards the raging D9, striking the engine compartment and the control panel. Sparks danced the length of the deadly earthmover. Its blade slammed to the ground with a clank. The D9 shuddered as the killing electricity coursed through its innards. Pete and Myka fired again. The D9 jerked forward, its blade digging into the earth. With a sputter it died, smoke billowing from its engine.

Pain! The energy being felt pain! The soft creatures were hurling electricity at it. It felt itself being blasted apart, its already nebulous state thinning away to nothing. How it hated the soft creatures! Then it faded away completely, leaving only a lingering trace of hate to note its passing.

Pete and Myka watched the sputtering D9 extrude an odd blue light that quickly dissipated as the earthmover grew silent. Myka pulled the AED out and held it up to the D9. Nothing. Whatever had possessed the machine was gone again.

"Nice thinking, Pete," said Myka, "Maybe Artie's friend MacGyver was wrong about you!"

"Does that mean I get a cookie?" asked Pete.

Jo walked over to the D9 and fired a single shot into its engine compartment. "Sorry, Old Yeller," she said, "But that's what you get for messing with Eureka's finest!"

The sirens reached a fever pitch. Several police cars pulled up beside them, followed by a convoy of firetrucks and ambulances. Faces peered from windows and peeked from house corners. Myka held out her identification as if to ward off the verbal assault she knew was coming. Pete sighed and plucked a coin from his pocket. "Heads or tails as to who gets to call Artie?"

Chapter Five

Myka studied the artifact in front of her. It was a small book with a silver cover. The word "Instructions" was inscripted on it in black, topped by a strange bilateral symbol in red. The display screen beneath the book read: "Instruction manual. Recovered: Mojave Desert, 1990. Of probable alien origin. Suit missing." Myka wondered what kind of suit needed an instruction manual. Maybe it was meant for Pete!

Claudia was thinking about trying on an ancient headdress that looked vaguely Egyptian. A bird design ornamented its forehead. The artifact was described as: "Probable alien flight helmet. Recovered: Egypt, 115 BCE." One stern glance from Artie and Claudia snatched her hand away.

Pete was peering through a thick glass window into a vault. Inside was a metal crate that had been welded shut. The symbol for radiation was stenciled on its top and sides. Pete read out loud the artifact synopsis: "Venus probe fragments. Recovered: Pennsylvania, 1968. Extreme hazard. Probable cause of corpse reanimation." He moved closer to the crate. "Wow! The guys at Roswell would kill to see this place!"

Artie sighed and beckoned to Pete. "Please step away from there, Agent Lattimer. I'd hate to have to shoot you in the head. "

Artie turned and resumed his conversation with Henry Deacon who was busy squaring the D9 away. Henry was one of Eureka's top scientists. He'd flown to Sturgeon in a Global Dynamics helicopter so he could accompany Pete and Myka on the remainder of their journey. Jo Lupo was long gone. "Gotta help my buddy Hannibal get out of a jam." she'd said before taking off. At least she'd promised Myka an apple pie from Cafe Diem.

Two massive clamps rose out of the floor on either side of the D9 and fastened themselves to its treads. The haunted earthmover had found its final resting place. "Given the description of the blue St. Elmo's fire you gave us," said Artie, "I think we can assume this thing belongs here, even if we don't know its exact provenance. I'm betting on an alien presence though." He patted the D9 in satisfaction. One more mysterious relic for the alien artifacts section of Warehouse 13. Another case closed.

Artie's Farnsworth buzzed. He opened it and strolled to a corner for privacy. "Yes, I see. I'll send you my two best agents. Nice to hear from you, Giles." Artie closed the Farnsworth and turned to Pete and Myka. "You're going back to California," he told them, "A little town called Sunnydale. They've found the Necronomicon."

The End