by Shadoe Masters
This is Story 7 of "The Great Burt Baiting Saga." These stories center on the characters from Tremors: The Series, and feature Burt, Tyler, and all the gang from Perfection Valley. There are also original characters of my own creation - just so you're warned ahead of time. But please don't let that scare you off. I hope you enjoy them.
While this story is a romance, the people involved are not the most cooperative people in the coupling department. The romantic elements take time to unfold.
Feedback: Please let me know what you think of each story. I love feedback, both good and bad, and the more detailed the better.
Disclaimer: "Tremors" is not owned by me or my affiliates, but by Stampede Entertainment, Universal Studios, and their affiliates. No copyright infringement is intended - just some good, clean (well, mostly) fun!
E-mail:
Thanks to my beta readers: LadyNRA & the gang at work
Where The Wild Things Are
by Shadoe Masters
Perfection, Nevada, 8/1/2003
The late afternoon desert sun beat down on the little town of Perfection as Burt's truck pulled up in front of Chang's Market. Burt's puzzled eyes trained on the activity under the water tower. He threw his passenger, Tyler, an inquiring glance. The younger man shrugged. Curious, the two got out of the truck and ambled over to where Nancy and Kylie had dragged a bench under the water tower.
Both women were drinking iced tea and had their legs folded up on the bench. Kylie's high-heeled sandals were kicked under the bench and he could see her toes peeking out from under her legs. The nails were painted green. Nancy wore one of her usual hippie tie-dyed shirt and jeans, while Kylie wore a t-shirt and shorts combo which, in Burt's opinion, had obviously been made for someone a good bit smaller than she was. Burt wanted to send her home to change. He had the hardest time looking her in the eye when she dressed like that.
As the men approached they heard snippets of talk and giggles from the pair while their eyes were trained on something on top of Chang's.
Burt turned to look. There was a man up there, probably belonging to the Peck's Construction truck Burt had seen parked beside the store.
The women giggled again, drawing his attention away from the roof, and Kylie said, "Look, he's going to take off his shirt."
Burt and Tyler's attention followed theirs to the roof, and, sure enough, the man paused in the desert heat to pull off the soaked t-shirt he wore. The women giggled again and Burt trained a stern look on them. They straightened up. Marginally. Their eyes still closely followed the man on the roof.
Burt halted in front of them and shook his head. "Isn't there something productive you could be doing?"
Kylie tore her eyes away from the roof to smile up at him and said, "We're on a break." Then her eyes flicked back to the man on the roof and widened. She elbowed Nancy, and the older woman followed her gaze.
Burt and Tyler's eyes followed suit. The man had picked up a stack of boards and carried it over his head, the muscles of his arms and back bulging.
Tyler laughed. "I cannot believe you are exploiting that man like this. The poor guy is just trying to put in a hard day's work and you two are treating him like a sex object." He turned to Burt, full of feigned moral outrage. "Women!"
"Oh please," Kylie scoffed. "You can't tell me you guys wouldn't be right here, exploiting away, if that was a woman up there."
Burt and Tyler looked at each other. "Absolutely not," Burt said.
Kylie and Nancy sputtered with laughter.
"Well... if she took her shirt off..." Tyler admitted.
"Told ya!" Kylie crowed.
Burt shook his head in disgust.
Another vehicle pulled up, attracting the attention of all four. It was a dark blue government sedan with a DOI shield emblazoned on the door. Twitchell.
"This won't be good," Burt grumbled, already crossing his arms stubbornly.
Twitchell got out of the car and started into the store, but changed his course when he saw them gathered under the water tower. He stopped when he neared the bench and looked around. "What the hell are you all doing here?" he demanded. "Don't tell me something else has showed up." Then he noticed where their attention was focused and turned. "Who's that?"
"He's fixing the roof," Nancy replied.
"So?" Twitchell said.
"The girls are exploiting," Tyler explained.
Twitchell shook his head, then paused to take his handkerchief out of his pocket and mop his brow. He shot first Kylie then Nancy a look, then settled back on Kylie. "You are corrupting this woman," he told her.
Kylie straightened, affronted. "What makes you think this was my idea?"
"We've met," he said shortly. He opened the folder he carried and gave it a cursory glance. Twitchell's way of changing the subject. He looked up at Burt. "Got another assignment for you two," he said, including Tyler with a quick glance.
"Graboids?" Burt asked.
Twitchell looked back in the folder, stalling for time. "Well, no, not really."
"Then I'm not interested," Burt replied, chin going up.
"Thing is, the job needs your... expertise."
Burt just shook his head.
Twitchell heaved a sigh, then looked around, unnecessarily, to check for eavesdroppers. "There's a lab on Lake Mead, out by Overton. They had something escape, and they need you two to track it down."
"Couple hours from here," Burt acknowledged, but shook his head. "There are plenty of trackers in the area, perfectly capable. Hire one of those."
"But they don't already know about Mixmaster," Twitchell told him.
Burt's glance sharpened. "Mixmaster?"
Twitchell nodded. He looked in the folder before him again, more to stall than because he needed information. "The things are somewhere near the lake, they think, but--"
Burt shook his head and opened his mouth again, but Tyler beat him to it. "Lake Mead, you say?" He grinned at Burt. "I think we should go. I could use the extra cash." Burt only raised an eyebrow at him. "Besides, I think it's time we did a little exploiting of our own."
"All I'm saying is, let them clean up their own mess," Burt said. "If it doesn't affect my valley--"
"This must be it, Burt," Tyler said, interrupting the rant Burt had been into, off and on, for the entire two-hour drive. The power wagon approached a locked and guarded gate.
"Looks like a secret government biotech laboratory," Burt agreed.
"Hardly a secret," Tyler said, indicating the sign beside the gate that read, "Gibson Biotechnology. KEEP OUT."
Burt stopped before the gate and gave the guard their names. Other than producing ID, they went through surprisingly little fuss in getting through the gate. Apparently, they were expected. The guard gave them directions to the main building, then let them pass.
"Turn down there, Burt," Tyler said, as they approached a turnoff.
"I'm sure the guard said to make no turns," Burt told him.
"I know," Tyler said with a grin. "But it goes to the lake."
Burt rolled his eyes but turned. He wasn't exactly eager to start this assignment. He stopped where the road did and surveyed the area. There was a dock and an area set aside as a boat landing, but little else. Not even a boat. Rocks and scrub dotted the area, and little of the facility could be seen from the dock. Since the dock thrust out into a small cove, other beaches nearby were out of view.
"Satisfied?" Burt said dryly.
"Not much of a beach, if you ask me," Tyler replied, clearly more disappointed at the lack of bikini-clad women than beachfront amenities.
Burt just shook his head and turned the truck back to the main road.
The power wagon pulled up in front of the nondescript, three-storied building and stopped. The small parking lot was full, and contained only assigned parking at any rate. Gibson Biotechnology, it seemed, did not encourage visitors. In that case, Burt felt justified in parking directly in front of the door, blocking the drive to the parking lot.
As they entered the building, a nervous little man approached them. Burt raised his chin to look down his nose at him.
"Mr. Gummer? Mr. Reed?" His eyes darted left and right, then behind them, squinting through his spectacles at the lobby's glass doors. "Did you... get lost on the road? You took an awfully long time..." He wrung his hands and looked up at them.
Burt didn't dignify the question with an answer, but slid a resentful glance toward Tyler.
Tyler smiled and held out his hand. "I'm Tyler Reed. This is Burt Gummer. Twitchell sent us."
The man blinked at Tyler's hand a moment as if he wasn't sure what it was for, then belatedly took it for a brief shake. "My name is Dr. Randall. I'll be coordinating the reclamation effort from this end." He turned and started to scurry away, then stopped and gestured the two other men to follow. "Let's get started, shall we?"
Burt and Tyler, after sharing a quick, dubious glance, followed the man through a maze of corridors dotted with unlabeled, closed doors. Every door had a digital lock with thumbprint access. Initially, Burt distracted himself by wondering how he could get his hands on one of those for his bunker. Then he realized how deep he was in the belly of the beast and started to sweat.
At last, they came to a door, identical to the rest, and Dr. Randall quickly entered a code on the numberpad, pressed his thumb against the screen, and pushed when the door buzzed. Instead of the expected laboratory with vials, beakers, and caged animals, this room was a conference room, furnished with a long wooden table, thick carpeting, and a viewscreen at one end. The man standing near the viewscreen looked up at their entrance. Another man, seated opposite, close to the door, swiveled toward them as they entered, but didn't stand. He looked them up and down with just a hint of a sneer. He made it clear he wasn't confident in their ability to solve his problem.
"This is Dr. Richard Stratten," Dr. Randall said. "He's the head of this facility." The man in question barely nodded. "This is Dr. Kruzil," he continued, indicating the other man in the room, who hurried over, hand outstretched.
"David," he corrected, with an attempt at a friendly smile.
Tyler met him halfway. "Tyler Reed," he said, then half-turned toward his companion. "Burt Gummer."
Burt didn't offer his hand.
"Let's get started," Dr. Stratten said sharply. "We're losing time with all these pleasantries." He turned toward the man on the other side of the table. "Kruzil?"
David nodded, indicating seats Burt and Tyler should take and sitting next to Dr. Randall. He flicked a switch on the table and the lights dimmed, then touched a button on the remote control in front of him and a projector mounted on the ceiling displayed the Gibson Biotechnology logo on the viewscreen.
"I don't know how much Agent Twitchell told you about us..." David began.
"Very little," Burt grumbled.
"Just that you had something to do with Mixmaster," Tyler said.
Dr. Stratten shifted in his seat, but said nothing.
David nodded. "We investigate a number of things," he said. "We--"
"Just the topic at hand, Kruzil," Dr. Stratten growled.
"Of course," David said with a nervous bob of his head. "Currently, we're investigating the possible uses of Mixmaster. Unfortunately, our results have been rather... unpredictable."
"And, occasionally," Dr. Randall added, "unstable."
"Yes," David continued. He pressed a button on the remote and the image changed to one of a group of orange, ape-like creatures. "We have several of these, a tamarin/chimpanzee hybrid. We refer to these as Model TH - tamarin-hybrid. Very useful to our research, but, as Dr. Randall said, unstable."
"But very intelligent," Dr. Randall added.
"They would be," Burt said, his eyes sliding toward Dr. Stratten. "Aren't both species very close to humans?"
David cleared his throat nervously. "Well, yes, they--"
"That isn't the issue here," Dr. Stratten interrupted. "We need them recaptured, not investigated. Are you capable of that?"
Burt nodded. "They shouldn't be difficult to capture. And control." He trained a piercing stare at David.
"Not very difficult," David said. "Under normal circumstances." He turned to the screen, pressed a button, and the image on the viewscreen changed to another creature, different from the others. "This one is called Model GH. It has some gorilla DNA, and seems to be the ringleader. The others are quite benign, and usually very friendly. This one, however..."
Dr. Randall chimed in again. "He's a bear to work with. Uncooperative, hostile and very..."
"Angry," David supplied. "Normally, we keep him locked up very securely. But somehow, the THs got loose just as we were working with the GH. They went crazy and wrecked the lab--"
"Nearly killed me in the process," Dr. Randall admitted.
"They were quite destructive," David agreed. He shot Dr. Randall a look. "But for some reason, tend to ignore people in their destruction."
"Unless the people are impeding them in some way," Dr. Randall added. "Or carrying guns."
"Precisely," David said. "They've come to recognize the tranquilizer guns we use, from previous escape attempts. The THs were, I'm sure, just playing. They can be quite playful."
"Not the GH," Dr. Randall added with a slight shudder.
"No, I'm sure the GH was in deadly earnest. Somehow, though, they all managed to escape. We captured most of them, but are unable to account for two of the THs and, of course, the GH. We fear they've somehow managed to escape the grounds."
"We've no idea how," Dr. Randall said. "The fences are quite high and electrified. Security measures extend a ways into the water as well."
"They swam out?" Tyler suggested
"Most primates can't swim," Burt told him. He turned to David. "Have you got any more information on them?"
The doctor nodded and slid a folder across the table toward the two Perfection men. "I've prepared a report listing all their vulnerabilities. There aren't many of those." He looked apologetic as he turned the lights back on.
"There wouldn't be," Burt muttered, and flipped open the folder. There were some photos and two sheets of paper detailing the appearance of the creatures. Not much to go on.
"I don't need to remind you," Dr. Stratten said, "that this is to be kept strictly under wraps. The only reason you two were brought in is because you already knew about Mixmaster. I don't want this information getting out."
"We'll keep it on the downlow," Tyler assured him, before Burt could say what he was obviously working up to saying.
Burt flashed him an irritated glance. "Why primates?" he inquired.
"You don't need to know anything about that," Dr. Stratten said, standing. "You just need to capture the things."
"They're actually kinda cute," Tyler said, examining the pictures in the folder - and distracting Burt.
"Looks like a five-legged spider," Burt added. The long tail on the orange creatures was as thick as the legs. "Only about the size of a large dog." He pulled out a photo of the larger black creature. It stood almost seven feet tall, according to the height marker beside it. Its sharp fangs were barred in a definitely angry expression. "Still think they're cute?" he asked.
"Not so much, no," Tyler admitted.
"They're much faster than their primate cousins," David added. "And have an abnormally low body temperature due to various other trace elements in their DNA. We believe this will keep them out in the open, where the heat is."
Burt looked at Tyler and rolled his eyes. "Scientists," he lamented.
A buzzer sounded and then a woman's voice came from one of the speakers on the table. "Dr. Stratten, Mr. Twitchell's shipment has arrived."
Dr. Stratten pushed one of the buttons on the panel in front of him. "Prepare it for our hunters," he said, and cut the switch. He looked toward Burt and Tyler. "Your weapons have arrived."
"I have my own weapons," Burt told him.
"Not this time," Dr. Stratten said. "You'll use non-lethal weaponry only. We need those creatures alive."
"And we can't go contaminating the environment," Tyler reminded him.
"Your weapons consist of tranquilizer guns and stun rifle," David said.
"They're quite effective," Dr. Randall added.
"They don't seem to have helped you," Burt reminded him.