CHAPTER 4
10:14 AM, Sunday, Visitor Center, Interstate Eighty, Delaware Water Gap, Pennsylvania.
Earlier in the day David Shateel, who thought of himself as "The Protagonist," crossed the border into Pennsylvania on I-80 in his 1978 Chevy El Camino and stopped at the welcome station for a map. The place actually had a live person behind the information counter. A thrill of clockwork certainty hit him.
Dave approached with charming smile number 1-A and showed a picture of Holly and Janice mugging for the camera. "Excuse me ma'am, I'm looking for my friends, they called from around here and said they were broke down."
The woman smiled back. "I know those two. They were in just this morning. Got a map and said they wanted a drive with the nicest views. I recommended Route Six west of Scranton. Nicest in the fall when the leaves turn but still pretty this time of year. Oh I hope they're okay?"
"Yeah, they're fine," Dave said. Until I get my hands on those two bitches anyway. "They called but ran out of change for the payphone. I didn't get directions. Could you show me the route you recommended?"
The woman took a map and marked the route with a highlighter. "There you go."
"Thank you so much."
"Anytime."
Dave made a wrong turn onto I-380 and it wasn't until the afternoon he got past Scranton and onto Route 6.
It was almost four as he was making his way along the winding mountainous road anticipating the sight of his target around every curve. When Holly had screamed at him the night before that she and Janice were packing and leaving the plan had crystallized in Dave's head like a black rose dipped into liquid nitrogen—dark and convoluted with hidden folds that would reveal themselves as he smashed away the outer layers. He had great faith in it. A few calculated cuts with a utility knife under the hood of Janice's car had been step one. The next step was to track them to some rural locale.
The El Camino was a muscle car but David had gotten one with the smaller engine and stolen a badge for the larger one. In these hills it labored and knocked on the cheap gas he bought. As he chugged over yet another crest he saw the Omni up against a stone wall in one of those scenic overlooks. The hood was up.
Bingo—shit.
The Omni wasn't alone. A brown county sheriff's cruiser was parked nearby and a county mounty in a yellow slicker was pasting a bright orange sticker on Janice's car. He didn't see the two girls. David considered pulling over and try bullshitting his way into some information on the two girls but he didn't know what the the deputy knew. So he kept driving.
2:04 PM, Sunday, near U.S. Rte. 6.
After ten cycles of seasons on this world, the alien swarm had finally reached the size where it felt it could survive in the open and emerged from the forest floor. It had enough mass now that, if it encountered one of the ring tailed omnivores it had observed, or even on of the giant black ones, it could simply split into a dozen sub swarms and scamper in different directions certain that a majority would be able to rendezvous later.
It knew a lot about the local ecosystem but very little about the sapient beings on this planet. He knew they existed from the radio traffic. Most of it was analog and the alien had no references to be able to decipher it. An increasing amount of the traffic was digital and the overall traffic was increasing, so it knew that they had a growing technological civilization.
With anticipation it began to ooze in the direction from which it felt ground vibrations that indicated some kind of linear transportation infrastructure.
3:45 PM, Sunday, sheriff's substation, Tunkhannock, Pennsylvania.
Wyoming County was small and had a lot of small boroughs and townships. Many had zero police and relied on the county sheriff and on the state police. That didn't mean there was little crime. With many isolated houses, break-ins were a perennial problem. Especially for cabins. People didn't lock their doors, not out of a sense of security, but that they would rather not have to replace a broken door on top of their other losses. And sometimes there was an issue with squatters moving into cabins.
Deputy Jim Titus checked with the realtor and confirmed the Miller place was indeed under a new lease. The rental agent gossiped about a nasty divorce in the offing. It seemed the notorious swingers had gotten a little too open with their marriage. Jim felt a little Schadenfreude over this—Mr. Miller had been a complete asshole the one time he'd been caught speeding in his big Mercedes. The pair and their guests were noted as demanding patrons and poor tippers in local diners. Since Jim was single, new to the job and the area, and therefore a "catch," waitresses liked to gossip at him. He got a lot of coffee refills and a reputation as a good listener.
Jim was indeed a good listener. He particularly listened for what people didn't say. At his desk at the Wyoming County Sheriff's Station Jim slowly closed his notebook. Janice Porter hadn't said a lot. And... Damn, forgot to get the second girl's name.
He stood up and picked up his hat. "Disabled vehicle at the overlook and something hinky at the Miller place. Going to check them out."
"I heard," the only other deputy in the office said. "I got the phone."
"Thanks." Jim hitched up his belt. He was a solid man medium height and solid build with brown hair and mustache. He had a slight beer belly he'd recently begun to fight with trips to a gym here in Tunkhannock. I spend ninety percent of my time on this job sitting on my ass. Should go back to cycling a beat in Philly—nah, any day not in Philadelphia is a good day.
4:04 PM, Sunday, back at the cabin.
Janice and Taylor were on the big sectional in the living room. They weren't exactly in a sixty-nine position and not exactly having oral sex. Mostly they were exploring each other, enjoying the easy intimacy of it. Her head was on his thigh, his was on hers. They probed each other gently with fingers and occasionally lips and tongue. Janice thought it the most pleasant way to spend an afternoon she could imagine.
"I've only sucked three guys before now," Janice said. "All three begged me to do it. All three promised they wouldn't come in my mouth. One actually tried not to. That was the messiest."
While she was saying all this, Janice explored the architecture of Taylor's cock. It was amazing really, the spongy triple tubes melded together under the soft outer skin. She followed them down with gentle probing fingers to where they kept going below what she had thought of the base until they emerged from the solid muscles of his groin.
"You never asked," Janice continued. "You didn't have to, I just wanted to. Promise me..."
"Okay, I promise," Taylor said idly. He seemed to be fascinated by her pubic hair, running fingers through the coppery curls and pulling then out to see just how long her short-and-curlies were.
"Silly you don't even know what..."
"I won't come in your mouth... unless you ask."
Janice picked her head up to look across at him. "No silly! Promise that you will always come in my mouth unless I ask."
"Deal." He grinned and shook his head.
