Ross was the first to speak. “What happened?”
“What’s happening?” Jill responded, and he understood that she was referring not just to the monstrosity in front of them but to everything that seemed to be occurring lately. His skin prickled.
The cow cried out, reached the side of the road and rolled into a low ditch. In the stillness of the night air, they could hear its bulk rustling the weeds and brush as it pushed itself into the desert.
“Let’s turn around,” Jill said, sickened.
He didn’t argue, and they headed back the way they’d come, both of them glancing over their shoulders periodically to make sure something else wasn’t on the road and following behind. He thought of the chickens and the eggs and wondered what could possibly be causing such horrors. He was an engineer, so he knew the idea was stupid, but he’d seen a lot of science fiction films and his gut theory was radiation. There was no radioactive agent on earth that could cause such a variety of selective deformities in such a short amount of time—and the Palo Verde nuclear power plant was west of Phoenix, on the way to California, the nearest military base, Fort Huachuca, about fifty miles away in Sierra Vista—but the human brain never let facts get in the way of fears. “Maybe there’s some sort of secret government lab out here,” he said aloud, looking over at Jill in the darkness to try and gauge her reaction. “Maybe there’s been a leak and something’s spreading out and contaminating the environment.”
“Maybe,” she said, but sounded doubtful.
“What do you think’s going on?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t think there’s a…scientific explanation,” she said.
For some reason, the image of that black flying thing crossed his mind. “What do you mean?”
“My friend Cissy tried to get me to go to church with her on Sunday. She said God was punishing Magdalena for its sins.”
“And you believe her?”
“I didn’t,” Jill said.
“And now?”
“I don’t think God’s punishing Magdalena. I don’t think there’s a curse on the town. But something’s going on that I don’t think anyone has an explanation for.”
Ross thought again of that thing in the sky.
“I’m not superstitious, but I’m open-minded, and when I see things like that…” She gestured behind them, leaving her thought unfinished.
He had no response.
They walked quickly back to her house, keeping a close watch on the road for anything else that might jump, slink or crawl in front of them. They made it back safely, and Jill walked from room to room, turning on all the lights. Whatever romantic mood had been generated earlier was long gone, but they had sex anyway, a quick desperate coupling on the living room floor, the only sounds in the otherwise quiet house an occasional grunt and the frantic slapping of skin. Afterward, he asked again if she wanted to stay with him for the night—or if she wanted him to stay with her—but Jill shook her head and told him she was okay, although she did ask him to wait outside until she’d locked all the doors and was safely in bed. He patrolled the house and the yard, made sure everything was all right, then tapped twice on her bedroom window with their pre-arranged signal before getting into his car and heading out. The other neighbors all seemed to be home—their lights were on at least—and that made him feel a little better, but he called her when he arrived back at the shack, just to make sure she was all right.
She was. She was in bed and reading, the TV on in the background, and he said goodnight to her once again before getting undressed and crawling into bed himself.
Closing his eyes, he tried not to hear the chickens outside, and tried to pretend to himself that their clucking didn’t sound like laughter.
SEVENTEEN
Cameron had come inside the house for lunch and was eating a melted cheese and bacon sandwich when the phone rang. He considered not answering—was there really anyone he wanted to talk to right now?—but he picked up the phone anyway, and it was Jack Judd. His friend did not sound so friendly today, and when the other rancher announced that he was coming over, along with Cal Denholm, Jim Haack and Joe Portis, Cameron knew the reason why.
He wolfed down the rest of his sandwich, took a fortifying swig of Coors and went out to the porch to call Jorge. His foreman came over, but didn’t hurry the way he usually did. He kind of sauntered up, in a way that seemed almost deliberately disrespectful. Come to think of it, Jorge had been acting uppity for several days now, not showing the proper respect. On this ranch, that sort of behavior required punishment, so as soon as he stepped onto the porch, Cameron punched Jorge hard in the stomach. The other man doubled over, gasping for breath. “When I call you,” Cameron said in a low angry voice, leaning forward so he could be heard more clearly, “you come. Do you understand, maricon?”