From his perch, Bosina watched the tribesmen carefully make their way up the hidden trail that lead to the eye of the magmatic dyke where they would soon tell tales of the middle days and the fall long into the night. Rather than follow along in a tedious procession, Bosina had opted to climb his way up the dyke to its highest ridge. Some one had made it to the eye before the procession and lit the bonfire that gave the dyke a sinister appearance from a distance. Maybe in some distance past it had done well to deter the raiders and vandals from approaching the sacred mountain and its dykes radiating out from it.

“Pashme,” a voice called up to him. Bosina recognized it, and was surprised the wily old chieftain had spotted him on his perch. “Kesh wiyalolo,” the chieftain barked, moving on to the eye of the dyke where the rest of the tribesmen were gathering is a circle. Sneak, the old man had said in the old tongue, join us. It was the old tongue, from the Oldest times—the one that no one spoke in public anymore.

Sighing, Bosina pushed off the ridge and slid down a ways, kicking a stream of dirt and rock before him. After a couple of well timed and well placed jumps, Bosina landed in the eye and took a seat with the group.

The chieftain, continuing to speak in the old tongue, began to tell the tale of the middle days when all humankind had been enslaved by invaders from distant voids:

One day the sun rose on the horizon and illuminated the land. The gods that watched over us in the middle days looked with fear upon their children, each bound, hands and feet and mind by creatures of darkness and evil. There was nothing the gods could do to save their children, for the creatures of the void were old enemies that the gods had lost many battles to. Many of the gods chose to abandon this planet and its people at that time, leaving them to suffer under the torturous machinations of the void denizens.

Only a handful of gods stayed, and among them was Hestus, the engineer. Along with Tera the ranger, and Mina the sage, the three began to devise a daring plan to save their children and expel the evil that had tainted the planet. For this plan to work, they needed one of their children, unspoiled by the void creatures, to help carry the burden of their intricate plan. At that time, there was only one man not enslaved in all the world.

His name was Oryn. When the voidships began descending from dark clouds signalling the invasion of evil, Oryn, feeling terror, began to run. Using the earpieces of the Gods, forged by Hestus, and stolen from an ancient temple to the gods that Oryn had broken into, he was able to continue his running for days, weeks, months… the driving beat of the music continuously pouring from the earpieces into his ears gave him strength. Oryn had been running for three decades when Hestus and the other gods decided he was their only hope.

At this time, the void creatures had completely stopped the spin of the planet, and much of the life on its surface began to die. It was almost as if the perpetual motion helped drive life forward, to progress and evolve as it should. The skies turned dark, the vegetation dried up and withered away, the massive bodies of water stopped moving and became stagnant pools of filth and decay. Oryn, bound to the strange music, found himself out of phase with the decay, and this is how he avoided the notice of the void creatures over decades. Accustomed to stagnation, they could not see or hone in on Oryn as he passed through their vile lands, their shadowed buildings, and their dark palaces.

Oryn, you see, was a coward. His running was earnestly an attempt to escape the fate that every human on the planet had been dealt. His long journey was one of fear and cowardice.

Being human, and only able to continue his feat by the power of the devices he had stolen from the gods, Oryn eventually began to slow and decay himself.

One day, Oryn’s legs stopped working, and he fell to the ground, stopping his long run for the first time since he began it. The void creatures felt his reentry into the stagnant time of the planet and began to pursue him immediately. Even as he lay there struggling to stand, the music compelled him to continue, driving his cracked bones and dead muscles to rise and fall with the interminable beat. Seeing the time was ripe, Hestus enacted his portion of the plan. As the void creatures closed in on Oryn, Hestus unleashed the Qatom Quasm, a device that the remaining Gods had used to bind the remains of the planet’s magnetic field to when the Void creatures had stopped the rotation of the planet. From deep within the core of the planet, at a location the Gods had calculated precisely, Hestus sacrificed himself and opened the Qatom Quasm, unleashing the imprisoned arc of the magnetosphere. Beams of electromagnetic energies pulsed through the the planet in waves outward from the core.

Oryn lay struggling directly along the path of one of these waves by design. The electromagnetic beam wave tore through the crust of the planet, taking with it tons of discarded metals that had once been the vessels of the void creatures, buried and forgotten eons ago. As the beam wave hit Oryn, great chunks of molten slag attached itself to his body. Energies reacting in their own perpetual cycles began to pull more metal from the planet even as the first of the Void creatures reached the area. Screaming in rage, the first Void creature, Tsze Tszen swung a might clawed tentacle downward to crush Oryn, but the tentacle stopped, suspended just above the human, who was now transforming into something larger, something metallic.

Even as Oryn transformed, the music from the earpieces he stole from the Gods continued to drive the beat into his soul. Oryn soon found his limbs working, now covered in flexible metal. As he found his footing, Tsze Tszen continued its assault in vain, every blow deflected by a forcefield generated by the energies now permanently intertwined with the human changeling. Driven by the incessant beat, Oryn began to run, but found himself unable to remain erect while doing so. Instead, he began to lope like an animal. As the metal continued forming around his body, the tips of his finger and toes extended into long curved claws. As he ran, his claws dug into the ground and propelled him forward in massive bounds.

Soon, the human savior chosen by the Gods picked up speed and began to circle the planet on the ground. Nothing the Void creatures did could stop him, and driven by the beat, Oryn could not stop himself. His fear slowly began to dissipate, but his cowardice and the incessant beat drove him onward, feeling that to stop would be to face his punishment. As his journey continued, and the number of times he had circled the planet grew from tens to hundreds to thousands, the electromagnetic forces that had helped create this new form began to pulse around him, pulling even more metal from the planet. As Oryn’s trips around the planet numbered in the millions, his bulk was such that instead of running along the surface of the planet, he was now stationary, his mighty claws spinning the planet beneath him. Though all life on the planet ceased, so too did the Void creatures.

A billion years passed with Oryn being the only life on the planet, and still he continued his running, unable to stop his relentless march.

Then one day, the music stopped. The Gods that had stayed behind to try and save the humans had perished long ago, and by this time, all the other Gods that had a hand in creating the earpieces Oryn had stolen also had perished. The last of their magic flashed out of the earpieces in a final sustained note that faded away into nothing.

Oryn slowed, and then Oryn stopped. By this time, the last human had become a giant blackened metal panther, claws like titanium. Deep within the body, the last vestiges of Oryn’s soul were bound, and after billions of years, that soul knew silence. He surveyed the planet, now rotating on its own, though much too fast for anything to live on it.

Alone and without purpose, Oryn longed for company. He attempted many times to leave the planet by jumping off of it, but the electromagnetic forces that created him now bound him to the core. To struggle beyond a certain point would destroy the planet, and now the more he stayed stationary, the more he felt the core of the planet pulling at him. For, at the center of the planet, the Qatom Quasm still remained open. The prison that bound the magnetic fields and his them away from the void creatures, was now pulling Oryn and the field back into it.

Frustrated, Oryn leaped and dug his claws into the planet pulling opposite the direction it was spinning. The planet slowed and stopped, and then, turning to face the opposite direction, Oryn began to run again, only the memory of the beat from the earpieces driving him on. As he picked up speed, he began to dig his claws further into the planet and spin the planet in the opposite direction that had run for so many millions of years. As he did so, he noticed time moving backwards. Mountains sheared down to plains by his original journey now grew from those plains and shot skyward. He began to see life returning to the planet, humans, and yes the Void creatures as well. He continued this run backwards until he witnessed the Gods fleeing from the Void creatures, and then he saw the arrival of the Void creatures themselves.

Oryn then stopped, and reversed the spin of the planet, returning it to its correct speed and direction. And then, he was waiting for the vessels bearing the Void creatures as they arrived. With his impenetrable body, and his mighty claws, he laid waste to the entire invading army. The Gods were frightened by his power, and fell to their knees to worship him, but he ignored them. Seeing his work done, he walked to southern pole of the planet, laid down and slept until the ice covered him.

This new Middle Time was one of great growth and discovery. Humans came into their own with help from their Gods and the entire planet, humans and Gods both, flourished. As the planet grew, and as Oryn slept, denizens of the Void plotted. Oryn himself slowly sank down through the crust of the planet, through the mantle, until finally, dreaming of strange swords, floating brains, and the living dead, he fell into the Qatom Quasm, which promptly closed, sealing him within.

One day, the sun at the center of the star system the human planet was apart of went dark. Night fell on the planet, as did deadly winter in a matter of days. Oryn, feeling this happen, awoke, but found himself trapped and immobile. After consulting with the Gods, the humans realized there was little they could do. The star was dead, collapsed in on itself by some device of the Void. Humans quickly began to die off, and soon the planet was uninhabitable even by the Gods. Again, most of the Gods left, but as in the old Middle Time, Hestus remained. Together with Oryn they formed a daring plan. Hestus used his powers to unbind Oryn from the Qatom Quasm, and the planet, allowing him to leave it. This allowed Oryn to travel to the largest gas giant remaining in the star system intent on spinning its core fast enough for it to collapse into a star itself. However, this would be a one way trip. As soon as Hestus unbound Oryn, pieces of his metal body began to fall away from him. Quickly, with a might bound that shook the planet, Oryn jumped into space. As he flew toward the gas giant, much of his metal protection fell away, but most continued to travel with him and due to his perpetual motion he reached the gas giant’s core still with enough bulk to be able to run. This particular gas giant had a core of diamond, and Oryn found it difficult to maintain a grip as he began to run. As parts of himself fell away, he began to despair, and in that despair he pushed himself harder than he had ever done so before. Then something happened, he began to hear the beat that had driven him so long ago when he first put on the earpieces of the Gods. He realized the sound, the music, was not created by Gods, but by the stars themselves. The earpieces only channeled the sound into a form a human, like Oryn once was, could hear. As the materials of the gas giant began to collapse in on themselves, ejecting some heavier elements and pulling lighter one’s to the core, Oryn found himself able to spin the core faster and faster. Layer after layer of his protective metal melted away until just as the core reached terminal speed, Oryn fell into the core and was crushed into the singularity at its center.

As this happened, the gas giant exploded with light, and the planet of the humans saw its first new starrise.

—

Bosina stood as the story ended and looked out to East where in a few hours the new star would rise again as it had every day since Oryn, as was the star named, sacrificed himself to save their planet.

For several hours, the tribesmen told other tales and legends of different times, of the Oldest Time, of the New Times, and then came the time to speak of the future.

The Chieftain moved to the center of circle the tribesmen had formed, just in front of the bonfire that lit up the hole in the magmatic dyke like the flaming pupil of an eye. Singing words in the native language of the tribe, he crescendoed into a scream, and cast a handful of powder from a pouch at his waist into the bonfire. The fire reacted angrily, flames shot up and outward from its base, wrapping around the ridge of the dyke. The flames danced around the tribesmen and their chieftain, but did not harm them. Bosina closed his eyes as the flames wrapped around him, blowing his long hair back. The fire turned from oranges and yellows to blues and purples and raged higher and higher from the eye of the dyke.

Opening his eyes, Bosina looked around the sacred mountain to the other five dykes where similar ceremonies were taking place in identical eyes, in identical dykes, all radiating out from their center point, the sacred mountain.

Bosina approached the Chieftain, his time now approaching. Likewise, five other warriors would be approaching their chieftains.

In the native language of Bosina’s tribe, and in the different tongues of the five other tribes that had set aside their grievances and warring between each other for the first time in centuries, the chieftains said this to their people:

And so the future time begins, and we are its harbingers, we are its tether from without and within. We are seeds planted eons ago in the dark crevices of the crust of this rock that never knew the light of stars or fire. For eons we grew, vines reaching up to entwine with species allowed to flourish and pollute the surface of this planet and the purity of the void. The Oldest times to the Future times form a great circle unbroken, unwavering, untainted.

As the chieftains said this line, the purple flames from the six bonfires licked out and ignited along the inner rim of all the eyes forming six circles wreathed in the purple flames. As the chieftains continued, the flames grew inward until they met each other at the center of each eye.

At this signal, with a purple firestorm raging around him, but not harming him, Bosina knelt before his Chieftain.

With this stone blade I open the door of your mind!

Bosina’s chieftain, synchronous with five other chieftains, grabbed the sacrifice’s head by the long hair and raised an obsidian bladed axe, handchipped to a razor edge. The chieftain brought down the axe against Bosina’s forehead, just above the brow. Bosina knelt immobile, his eyes wide with ecstasy. The chieftain then brought the axe down in five other places around Bosina’s skull. Blood ran down from these wounds, bathing Bosina in red. The chieftains then simultaneously reached down and pulled the top of each sacrifice’s skull away and cradled the brains in their hands, lifting them away and tearing their connection to the spinal cord. As the brains cleared the edge of the skull cuts, the sacrifices fell away dead to the ground. The chieftains lifted the brains up to the center of the eyes of the dykes and purple flames erupted from each brain. The brains levitated away from the hands of the chieftains and floated up to the very center of each eye. At the same time, tendrils of purple flames shot out and engulfed the chieftains. Energies began to pulse up the tendrils from the chieftains to the brains, and the chieftains withered at the loss. Tendrils then shot out and engulfed the sacrifices, and then each of the tribesman circled around the bonfires that had ignited the eyes. The scene was repeated in every eye of every magmatic dyke around the sacred mountain. The brains began to pulsate and grow at the center of each eye, and the tribesman withered away to corpses, still standing, but empty of their life energies. As the brains grew to their maximum, near half the circumference of each eye, the purple flames of the eye began to pull away from the edges of each circle revealing dark void, no matter which side one looked at. Soon the tendrils pulled back from the tribesmen, and as it did so, a miasma erupted from the mouths of all those affected and was carried away by the winds to all corners of the planet. The void grew inward in the circles until in each floated a massive purple-flaming brain, surrounded by void. A portal to the Void that each brain was centered in.

In unison, all the dead tribesman raised their arms in worship of the void, screaming and gurgling in the only way they had left through dead flesh and bone.

Slowly, black tentacles crept through the void portals on either side of each of the eyes. A few tentative ones at first, thin and shining from the reflection of the purple flames—the only way one could tell the boundaries between the tentacles and the void itself. Some tentacles wrapped around the brains, caressing them almost. Suddenly larger tentacles shot out from the portals and the brains moved away from the center of the eyes hovering above the ridges over each portal. The larger tentacles shot out outward and upward into the sky, impossibly past the clouds into space. There, each one attached itself to some dark scaffolding in the space between dimensions that held the multiverse in stasis. The tentacles pulled tighter and tighter and the ground begin to vibrate. The entire planet began to shudder. The magmatic dykes crumbled away, taking the living corpses with them, some being crushed, other just tumbling away and free like loose rock. The portals remained, suspended in the sky where they formed, and more and more tentacles shot out and attached themselves to invisible scaffolding.

All at once, the planet vibrated, causing earthquakes, tsunamis, firestorms, and other natural catastrophes. Oryn, the new star, rose overhead the sacred mountain as the planet slowed, until the planet stopped completely with the star aligned perfectly over it. At the center of the planet, the Qatom Quasm shattered, and the magnetic field pulsed and detached itself from the planet, whipping away into space. Without protection, the rays from the new star focused down on the sacred mountain and it ignited. The summit collapsed in on itself and magma bubbled from crevices along it slopes.

Then, the center of the mountain fell away, revealing a seventh portal pulsating with purple fire—this one pointed upward from the ground, and simultaneously down to it. The tentacles detached themselves from the dark scaffolding of the universe and shot to the center of this new portal. Undulating with dark energies, the tentacles began to pull something through.

—

One of the perks of being the Rains County Sheriff, at least for Bill Taggart, the current occupant of the post, was free coffee and pie at the little diner at the main intersection of Arizona State Highways 27 and 34. The town was called Huntridge, and boasted a population of about 2200 souls. On Thursdays, a good chunk of them were likely to hit the diner, either for coffee in the mornings before work, for a quick lunch, or for the dinner buffet in the evenings. Sheriff Taggart liked the days he got to see the three rushes—it meant nothing special was going on. A three rush day for him meant lots of free coffee, lots of free pie, and lots of gossip, which was Sheriff Taggart’s one vice. He knew every little thing about everybody, and he was known for his “well, you didn’t hear it from me…. but” that just about anyone could get out of him if they took the time to sit down in the corner booth with him and have some coffee and pie—their expense, of course. It was harmless, and Taggart never revealed information from crimes or investigations, what few there were in the area.

Sheriff Taggart’s booth was only ever occupied by Sheriff Taggart and whoever might be sitting with him. No one dared sit there when he was out on rare business. The booth offered Taggart a view of the entire diner, and also of the intersection. He could see every out-of-towner stopping at the truck stop diagonal from the diner to gas up. He could see the bank, and the Sheriff’s Office, and Dale’s, the rowdy honky tonk that brought in drunks from all over the county on Friday nights.

Yes, it was a sweet life, full of pie, and coffee, and gossip, and not a lot of business—especially not like the business he was fearing he was about to get into on a Thursday.

“Delbert said they’s all gone. E’ry last one of ’em. Damnedest thing.”

Sheriff Taggart tried to enjoy the piece of pie in his mouth. Cherry. Perfect crust. Sour now that he’d heard this news from Elroy Parker, who sat opposite him in the booth. Elroy wasn’t having coffee or pie. And Elroy wasn’t bringing the kind of gossip that would have made up for that oversight.

Taggart, finished chewing and swishing the unsatisfying pie in his mouth and swallowed, then took a big gulp of unsatisfying coffee, eyeing Parker over the rim of the mug, silently accusing him of being the reason this morning was suddenly so unsatisfying.

“The whole reservation?” he queried, sliding the rest of the pie toward the edge of the table, hoping Doris would take it the fuck away fast. “That’s a lot of land. Are you telling me Delbert ranged that whole swath of land and checked every damned building, hovel, and cave on it?”

Elroy shrugged. “That’s what he said. He said there was no one. Not one tribesman. They all lit out.”

“Where’s Delbert now?” After the question, Taggart downed the rest of his coffee and stood up, grabbing the rest of the pie in the same hand as his empty mug, expecting Parker to keep up.

“Said he was going out to the refuge to check there,” Parker stood and hovered around the Sheriff as he prepped to exit.

Taggart slid the pie onto the bar and told Doris, “Sorry, it wasn’t its fault,” nodding at the pie he’d left uneaten. “I’ll try again at lunch.” Moving from the bar, Taggart pulled on his jacket, and adjusted his gun on his hip. Nodding to each of the patrons as he passed them at the bar or in their booths, Taggart exited the diner and headed across the street to his office, Elroy Parker in hot pursuit.

Most of the morning traffic had dissipated, and Taggart took a straight line to his door without even looking for oncoming vehicles.

“What do you think it is?” Elroy asked at his shoulder.

“Too early to speculate.” Taggart purposefully strode into his office, startling his deputy, Frank Wilkes from his reclining position, feet on the desk. “Frank, what’s the number of the tribe headquarters on reservation?”

“Uh, 2312,” Wilkes stammered. “Trouble?”

“Too early to speculate.” While Taggart dialed the number and waited through five rings with no answer, Elroy filled Frank in on the situation.

Setting the phone back on its hook calmly, Taggart took a deep breath and held it.

“—not a damned soul anywhere,” finished Elroy.

Both Elroy and Frank fell to silence and just watched Taggart think his way through what to do next.

“Big truck gassed up, Frank?” he asked his deputy.

“Yes, sir,” Frank replied, nodding. “Just got those new tires put on, too.”

Taggart sucked his teeth and stood up. “Elroy, go back to the diner and stay there. Don’t tell anyone else what’s going on until I get back. There’s probably just some meeting of the regional nations no one told us about. Have some pie and some coffee, and hold tight.”

“Yes, sir, Sheriff,” Elroy said, practically running out the door and sprinting back across to the diner.

“Frank, start up the big truck while I lock up. We’ve got some ranging to do.”

—

After having stopped at several residences near the edge of the reservation, Taggart and Wilkes pulled up in front of the Headquarters building in the the big Bronco they used for back country work.

Taggart turned off the truck, but didn’t get out.

Looking around the empty parking lot, he took in the unusual scene. “Busses are gone, too.”

“Maybe it was a regional meeting,” Wilkes offered.

“I’ve never known them to take ALL the busses. There’s plenty of them that stay behind for things like that. I couldn’t tell you the last time Headquarters didn’t at least have someone manning the front desk.”

After a beat, Taggart pulled on the handle and exited the truck, boots crunching on the gravel of the parking lot. His hand fell naturally to the butt of his gun in its holster, and he flicked the leather strap free that held it, but he didn’t draw it out.

Striding up the short ramp to the front door, Taggart surveyed the area around him. It was damned quiet. Quieter than he’d ever known it to be.

The front door was unlocked, and as he opened the door, he could hear voices coming from deeper in the building. “Sounds like someone’s here.” He said this to calm Wilkes, who he could tell was rightly spooked by the strange situation. Taggart could already tell it was either a radio or a television that the voices were coming from.

Moving past the front desk, Taggart motioned Wilkes to the small offices on either side of the front desk, while he took a cursory look at the area behind it. Wilkes disappeared into one of the offices and Taggart moved down the main hallway toward the sound of voices.

Only the front office area was lit up. The native and natural history exhibits that made up the back half of the Headquarters building were all dark. Taggart felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he walked through shadows, catching the black, human shapes of some of mannequins, and the more disturbing shapes of some of the stuffed wildlife.

As the pathway through the exhibit approached a partial wall, Taggart could see the flickering light of a television set. There were two sets of voices competing with each for his focus. Rounding the wall, Taggart saw the first monitor, one of the exhibit videos on a loop talking about the Massacre that had takien place there when settlers had first laid claim to the area regardless of the native presence. Taggart switched it off just as it showed a pile of dead tribesmen next to an open hole in the ground. Once that noise was canceled, Taggart could hear the second source clearly.

“Geologists and seismologists from local universities have been unable to explain the sudden collapse and cratering of White Mountain, as well as the collapse of the magmatic dykes that extend out from the mountain. In a seemingly unrelated story, the National Guard has been called into the nearby cities of Doakes and Tineville in response to sudden violent unrest, not in reaction to any natural disaster like an eruption as was first reported in overnight releases.”

Taggart watched the television, not really paying attention to the geology stuff, but perking up when the “violent unrest” was mentioned. The television was another monitor used for exhibit videos, but it had been tuned to the regional news. As the report continued, Taggart noticed the exhibit, one housing artifacts and ancient weapons, was empty.

“Earthquakes were reported as far away as Prescott and Sedona, and there have been sporadic reports of fast moving fog, and ash in areas surrounding the White Mountain State Park, which covers about 250 square miles, with the once prominent peak at its center.”

The television showed a distance shot of White Mountain, a peak Taggart was intimately familiar with, a peak that was now a mesa, or more like a volcano.

Taggart heard something shuffle in the darkness behind him. Instinctively his had went to his gun but didn’t draw as he spun around. Wilkes held his hands up. “Just me, boss,” he apologized.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Frank,” Taggart exhaled and turned back to the television.

“Holy shit!” Frank exclaimed, seeing the shot of the mountain, or what was left of it. “What the hell happened to it?”

“Strange shit’s afoot,” Taggart replied, gesturing to the exhibit nearby. “Wherever they went, they took all their sacred artifacts and weapons.”

“Or someone stole them,” Frank reasoned.

“Nuh uh,” Taggart explained. Grabbing the handle of the glass case, he pulled up on it having seen the disposition of the lock at his first examination. The case was locked. “You know many thieves that would unlock a case, take shit out of it, and then lock it back?”

“Right,” Frank replied, nodding. “Makes sense. Should we go further in to the reservation, check every house?”

“Nope.” Taggart replied, shifting his gun belt, eyes still on the image of the mountain. “Delbert’s not a man to exaggerate. If he says they’re all gone, they’re all gone.”

“Where though?” Frank asked, shifting on his feet.

Without a word, Taggart raised a finger, and slowly pointed at the mountain still on the news report. “I’m willing to bet right there.”

“Shit, that’s over a hundred miles from here. Why do you think they went there?”

Walking over to a wall, Taggart flipped a switch, lighting up a large floor to ceiling picture on the wall that was invisible in the darkness. It depicted White Mountain.

—

The drive back to town had been taken mostly in silence. Frank had asked more questions, but after Taggart didn’t answer any of them, he finally stopped talking.

The Bronco stopped hard in front of the Sheriff’s Office, tires shrieking. “Get on the horn to State, see what the word is on that National Guard situation,” Taggart directed and then exited the vehicle.

“Where are you going?” Frank called over the top of the Bronco as Taggart stomped across the highway towards the diner.

“Pie!” came the reply.

Taggart felt his stomach drop a bit as he entered. Elroy wasn’t there. In fact, the diner was empty except for Doris, who was counting bills from the till.

“What happened to Elroy?” Taggart asked, heading for his booth.

Doris shrugged. “He said he was feeling sick and took off. Not long after that, the whole crowd paid up and left.”

“Sick too?” Taggart sat heavily in his booth and the wood groaned.

“No, Randall Jeffries came in and said something about an earthquake at White Mountain and they all took off over to the Truck Stop or Dale’s. I knew I should’ve got a TV in here.” Doris already was headed to Taggart’s booth with his pie and coffee. Taggart noted it was pecan pie this time, and wondered if the cherry really was off. “Do you know anything about it?”

“Not much,” Taggart said quickly, hurrying a piece of pie in his mouth. It was right, all was right, the pie was good, though everything else was off. After a quick swallow, Taggart continued. “Looked like the damn mountain collapsed in on itself. Half the top is gone.”

“Oh my god, that’s awful,” Doris gasped. “Pat and I climbed up to the top for our anniversary. My god.”

As Taggart took a long pull on the coffee, his eyes fell on a man crossing the street to the diner from the Sheriff’s Office side. Something was off. The man’s mouth was slack-jawed open, and he was stumbling.

“God damned Dale, letting another live one get out on the streets again. Son of a bitch.” As Taggart tried to quickly finish his coffee, intending to handle the situation himself, a Honda Accord, going about 120 miles an hour hit the man and kept going, straight to the Truck stop where it collided with a tanker that had just pulled up to the ground tanks.

The explosion shattered every glass in the diner and Taggart spat all the coffee in his mouth, and some from his gut, over Doris as he scrambled to get out of the booth. There were screams erupting from multiple directions, and they continued as he exited the diner, crunching on broken glass.

For a moment, before crossing the two intersecting highways, Taggart just stared at the inferno. He knew people in that blaze, had seen what could only be body parts flying by. He already smelled the old familiar scent of burnt flesh and blood that he hadn’t smelled since his army days. Sheriff Bill Taggart was a smart man, a decisive law enforcement agent, but he froze there and didn’t know what to do.

He was vaguely aware of someone approaching from the sidewalk to his left. His peripheral vision identified the clothes he’d seen Elroy wearing earlier. Taggart assumed Elroy was coming to gawk and says things like “Holy hell” and “Jesus H. Christ” so it was a bit of surprise when Elroy grabbed him, and bit into his neck, severing his jugular and pulling away a chunk of bloody flesh in his mouth. Taggart fell as Elroy continued to bite into him and struggled to get his gun out of its holster. He fired two shots into Elroy’s chest, but Elroy kept coming, biting into Taggart’s face as he screamed.

Another body fell heavily on Taggart’s legs and he felt something bite into his meaty thigh. Taggart recognized Dale, the bar owner, munching away on him. Mouth streaked red.

Hell, it could have been cherry pie…