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Chapter 6
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Not long after the amber street lights started illuminating the semi-deserted city streets, Pete and Myka resumed their hunt for the night-time denizens stalking the good citizens of Coeburn. Wisely, most of the nocturnally inclined humans had taken themselves off the streets and stayed behind locked doors for the evening. Many of them hoped the police would do their jobs better than what had been done to date.
However, at that moment, neither agent could summon up enough energy to condemn the local law enforcement precincts for their lack of success in capturing or killing the animals. The more Pete and Myka observed, the more they wondered if Artie wasn't correct after all. He certainly had a nose for these things. And they could never remember him being wrong. Clearly, weirdness was happening all around them but they were damned if they could figure out what was causing it.
As they got to one side street where it intersected a wider road, Pete heard a kind of grunting noise. He peered around the corner of the structure, straining his one visible eye as he tried to pick up any motion out of the ordinary. He looked back at Myka and shook his head.
She poked around his side and took a look for herself. "Nothing," she whispered, sounding frustrated.
"Yeeeahhh," came Pete's soft song-like reply, "Like you'd see something, I can't, right?" He paused and looked down at her, "Well, aside from seeing dead people, I mean."
"Don't remind me," she muttered, capturing his eyes with hers. "If these things hadn't been hurting people, I might have assumed they were visions."
Pete straightened up. "You know, it never even occurred to me that they might not be real because of the attacks, but can't some…well, ghosts or whatever…do physical damage even when they aren't real?"
"Not really my strong suit, Pete," she answered with a quick tilt of her head. "It's not like I was fascinated by those kinds of stories when I was a kid. Creeped me out if you want to know the truth. But to answer your question, I doubt these attacks are by something manifesting itself into a temporary corporeal state."
He grinned widely at her. "Damn! You're starting to sound like Artie."
Lightly punching his shoulder, she couldn't help but smile back.
That moment of bonding was abbreviated by another odd sound. Not the grunt of before but more of a heavy clickity clack of something solid on pavement. Nor was it as pronounced as the sound of horses hooves on cobblestones like in the old movies. But it did sound out of place in this section of town.
Once again, they edged around the corner. A van blocked part of their view. Pete side-stepped carefully out from the protective shadows of the building, withdrawing the Tesla from his pocket with a fluid motion. He quickly looked left, spotted nothing, and looked right again. Nothing down the street. A phantom, he wondered, taking another silent step to a point just beyond the van. And came face to face with 'it'.
Instinct made him holler in shock and surprise. The beast, hidden by the van, backed a step, its wooly head flew up, a snort escaping its broad nose. Then it lowered its two short curved horns in his direction, its eyes dark pools, reflecting the orange glow of the lights as if it were a creature fueled by hell fire itself.
It charged with a bellow, massive head down, powerful legs driving. Razor sharp reflexes drove Pete back around the van, and he aimed the Tesla as the creature thundered by. He pulled the trigger, bracing for the near-blinding flash of light that would take the beast down. Well, he hoped it would take down something that large at any rate. He never got to find out if the Tesla could do such a thing because nothing happened. He stared down at it, bewildered for a second, and fired again.
"I don't believe this!" he yelled, more at the gun than at his partner. Then he added, rather unnecessarily, "It's not working!"
"Can't be," she yelled back in equal volume. "I checked it. It's fine, recharged."
The beast whirled and glared at them with dumb mindless hatred. For no reason either agent could fathom, the aggressive stance fizzled away. It turned back to its original course and trotted down the street.
Yanking the Tesla out of Pete's hand, she ran down the street with him following on her heels. She got to what she thought was an effective distance and aimed the weapon. The anticipated arcs and streams of energy soared outward but only kissed the flanks of the running creature. It bellowed once, in pain or defiance, she couldn't tell which, and picked up the pace, easily outstripping the two humans trailing in its wake.
"Wow, that thing was faster than I thought it would be," Pete stated as they walked back to their previous observation point.
"I'd heard that was the case." Myka's chin dipped once in a nod.
"Heard or read?"
"Both, actually."
He vigorously combed his fingers through his short hair then rearranged it as an afterthought. "Figures!" He turned to peer into the darkness where his prey had just vanished. "Pity we couldn't take it down. I heard those things are good eatin'. Would have made better burgers than what our budget is allowing these days."
Myka frowned, not commenting on the joke. "Maybe we should call Artie and see what he thinks about your latest mishap." She tapped her purse with the Farnsworth in it.
He sighed heavily and glanced meaningfully at her. "I don't know about you, but I'd like to try solving this on my own. I think a call to Artie is fine after we are both safely behind closed doors. If we're lucky we'll have more to report by then."
Myka rolled a shoulder in surrender and started walking.
Patrolling the streets later that evening yielded no further encounters. They did see a large raptor-like bird streak down and snag a patrolling cat off the sidewalk, but aside from the terrified yowling of the feline, there were no further sightings of anything out of the ordinary.
Foregoing breakfast, both agents retired to their rooms, exhausted and discouraged. While Myka showered, Pete played with the computer, scanning various sites until he grew drowsy. He'd meant to freshen up but found himself sprawled on the bed many hours later, with the metallic buzz of the Farnsworth rattling around in his ear.
"Hey," Artie's image said without preamble.
"Hey yourself," Pete moaned as he rolled onto his back, muscular arms reaching toward the ceiling with the device clasped between them. "I was gonna call you this morning."
"It's afternoon," Artie corrected him but then waved it off. "Never mind that. You have good news, I hope?" He didn't bother to hide his exuberance. "Mrs. Frederic has been on my case about getting you to wrap this up quickly."
"Why, are we needed back there?" Pete asked curiously.
Artie shook his head slowly. "No, but she has her reasons and I'm just passing along the suggestion. So, what have you found?"
Myka, having heard the buzz of the communication device, stepped into his room and poked her head into the field of view. "Nothing, Artie. We have found nothing! No different than the last time. I don't even know where to begin. There's no leads on an artifact. Pete's getting no vibes, not even when he got attacked last night."
Eyes wide, expression both serious and caring, Artie didn't bother to hide the concern in his voice. "Attacked? Are you all right?"
Myka closed her eyes for a moment, wondering how she could ever have doubted that her boss didn't care about them and their well-being. She mentally replayed all the times they'd been in trouble and how he always sounded like he did at that very moment…fear for their safety over-riding any of his other worries.
"Natch…not even a close call," Pete bragged.
Artie's shoulders lowered as the tension drained from them. "So what did you see?"
"You're not going to believe this, Artie," Pete began.
"Oh, I can believe lots of things so go ahead and tell me."
"Buffalo. A buffalo charged me just as I walked around a van parked—"
"Did you say…buffalo?"
"Yeah, Artie, buffalo. Buff-a-lo."
Artie's eyebrow jumped.
"Hey, I know what I saw," Pete added defensively.
The eyebrow slid higher.
"I think I know what a buffalo looks like."
"Are you referring to a water buffalo?"
"No. Come on Artie, a big old buffalo, like in the westerns."
"Then you are probably referring to an American Bison, which, incidentally isn't technically a buffalo. There are many differences—"
"Artie, it was big, shaggy, had horns and was really really unhappy with me."
Rolling his eyes, Artie muttered, "Fine, whatever. I believe you. I have no reason not to, especially with all the other non-indigenous creatures materializing on city streets." He paused for a second, his eyes shifting direction, off to his left and followed by the sound of clacking keys. "In any case, I think it's safe to surmise an artifact is involved. Now the tough part will be narrowing down possibilities."
Myka's strained expression appeared next to Pete's. "And if you can't? Narrow it down, I mean?"
"We'll deal with it like we always do." He leaned away from them. "Assume it's something new and locate it. Bye."
After the image vanished with an almost audible pop, Myka stowed the Farnsworth. "Back out on the streets," she sighed. "You know, what we really need is a scanner so we can hear where the activity is and get there quick enough to at least be in the vicinity of the attack soon after it happens."
"Great idea!" Pete acknowledged, whipping out the "company" credit card. "RadioShack, here we come."