Aliens 2035

Chapter 2-3

Bending down on one knee, Birgit retrieved the collecting bag of adult mudpuppy salamanders swimming in the clear water from the rocky bank of Owl Creek. She counted six. ‘Excellent musky bait’, her father had told her when they went fishing. But she’d take these samples to the US Fish and Wildlife Service’s lab in Marquette. Half would be kept alive as controls to see how long they lived. Others would be dissected to see the effects of the lampricide on their systems. She glanced to the west, where sunlight sliced through the orange and red of the maple trees. The sampling had taken longer than she expected and nightfall was only an hour away. Her muddy, wet boots were proof of how difficult it was to find the rusty brown, nocturnal amphibians. She slid the water-filled bag into her backpack along with the rest of her gear. She was about to slip on the pack when she felt the silence. Something’s not right. She’d experienced this kind of stillness often enough in Afghanistan, usually at dusk, when the insurgents were preparing to spring an ambush. The air went silent as if every animal knew the world was about to burst apart. Instinctively, she crouched and slid along the bank to a fallen tree trunk. Her heart pounded in her chest. She remembered to breathe and count. She went through the ritual three times. Two minutes passed. The quiet stretched. Maybe she was imagining things. Dr. Arafat had warned her PTSD could cause her to imagine scenarios where she would again find herself helpless in the face of danger. She peered over the tree, wishing she had a helmet and flak vest. Still nothing. She relaxed and let out a sigh when she heard it, a lazy pphhtting sound like a cow farting.

Birgit recognized the noise. It was made by a sound suppressor, the kind used by some American snipers in Afghanistan, especially in towns and villages where they didn’t want noise or muzzle flash to give away their position. Her scalp tightened. She knew from the direction, the round had not been aimed at her. But if not her, then at what? Illegal hunters? But the good old boys around here didn't have that kind of equipment?

A heartbeat later an unearthly scream split the evening.

The forest seemed to explode alive at that moment. A flock of ravens fled cawing into the air. A deer’s head shot up and it bounded away bleating plaintively, a flash of white marking its trail before it disappeared in the underbrush.

Birgit hunkered down. The scream had come from close by. She heard something big thrashing through the trees away from her. Don’t get up, she ordered herself. Lay low. Bears don’t scream like that nor do they make that kind of noise when running. She felt something hard and cold in her hand. She looked down and saw her service SIG Sauer P320 in her hand. The US Fish and Wildlife Service had armed all of its field agents because of poachers and crazy armed militiamen. The feel of the weapon brought back training she thought forgotten. She drew herself up into a crouch, eyes level with the log, and scanned the forest. She saw nothing untoward. She stood, ready to dive for cover. Even as she cautioned herself to grab her backpack and head back to the truck, she knew she was going to follow the scream and whatever poor beast had made it.

“Sheisskopf! Leave now!” She always swore in German. It sounded more powerful, but her self-warning didn’t stop her from investigating.