Chương 10: Conservation

"Uh-huh. Uh-huh." Martin scribbles something down while cradling his phone between his ear and shoulder.

"Yeah, got it. Thanks." He taps a button, ending the call while still writing down details before he forgets. It's well into fall, and they're being sent to the Lake. He checks on Shrike, who's had a week off from her 'neighborly chores'. She's taken to reading more fantasy novels, especially anything that has more magic flying around than in everyday life. There's something nice about watching her read books by the fire, but he can't quite place why it makes him happy.

"Hey Shrike!" She closes the book, getting up from what Martin has taken to calling her 'nest' of blankets.

"Martin."

"New mission. We're going to Antelope Island as our staging ground. To make it even better, we already know what we're looking for." He waits for Shrike to ask what. She does not.

"That's right, an amikuk. Started hanging around too close to the trails. Hasn't gotten anyone yet, fortunately, but its gotta go." Shrike continues to listen to Martin in silence, waiting patiently for an explanation she knows is coming.

"Yeah... they're usually found up in Alaska, especially Yup'ik territory. They're sea monsters, but can also 'swim' through the earth. Not burrowing and leaving a tunnel, but swimming like they do through water. The Great Salt Lake is shrinking pretty rapidly as of late, and as a result, some long-dormant creatures formerly under the lake are awakening as they get exposed to the sun again. For us, that means the usually aquatic and usually cold-weather amikuk.

They must have had a larger range thousands of years ago. The things have these big prehensile tentacles about... twice as long as my height." Martin raises his arms to demonstrate.

"This appears difficult," Shrike states, tucking her book neatly in a rapidly filling shelf.

"I do not understand how we are meant to dispatch the quarry should it lay underground and leaves no trace. Additional, large amounts of salt are unpleasant for me, as you are well aware."

"It gets worse. This is actually a four-star creature, but we're the only ones available." No reason to mention the hefty bonus, he thinks.

"So we must locate and eliminate a creature that is likely large enough to consume us whole and can strike at any moment from a perfectly defensible position."

"Yep." Martin opens the door to the basement to start gearing up.

"I have a few tricks up my sleeve, though."

"This is entirely opposite to my skillset." Shrike watches Martin's relaxed movements, and relaxes in turn. If he has a plan, then its nothing to worry about.

"That's why you have me. Not everything is laser beams and giant spikes." He winks as he disappears down the steps, leaving Shrike to get ready herself. The drive to Antelope Island is short, under an hour in total. The only way onto the island by land vehicle is the West Antelope Island Causeway, a massive bridge over a mile long that connects the island to the mainland.

Martin makes a note to expense the fee for using the causeway as they drive over, looking at the mud below them, only small sections of water beneath the bridge these days. Shrike looks out the window at the thousands of seabirds that are mid-migration. It's an amazing sight. Ducks, things that look like ducks, some strange bird with long legs and a bill that turns upward...

"Pelicans!" Shrike shouts, startling Martin into hitting the brakes. He turns around in a panic.

"What the hell, Shrike?"

"Look. Pelicans. So many pelicans." Martin's eyes linger on her for a moment, before he presses on the pedal again. A short glance back to Shrike shows her keenly watching the birds.

"You scared the hell out of me by shouting. I don't think I've ever heard you raise your voice when I'm this close." Shrike glances at Martin, her facing turning a soft rose.

"I apologize. I like pelicans. I have read of them but have never seen them. I believed they were exclusively coastal."

"Nope, they go where the food goes. Lucky you, we came at the right time." Martin keeps taking furtive peeks into the rear view mirror at Shrike. She's smiling wide, more happiness than she's shown in weeks, just from watching the birds sit on the flat mud. The more he learns about Shrike, the less he understands. Barely any reaction to the monsters they face. Hardly made a sound when her hand was half-dissolved by Hoar Hound venom. Mopey when actively volunteering to help. But pelicans?

He keeps his eyes back to the causeway, slowing the car down by ten miles an hour, giving her just a little bit more time to watch them. Anything that makes her happy, to him, is a good thing. She's untethered to the world most of the time. Like a homesick tourist visiting from a distant star. Martin carefully drives along the winding roads of Antelope Island that lead to the point, before pulling off the trail and onto the cracked dirt that used to be part of the lake.

The picture of the creature was taken fairly close to the island itself, so there's no reason to go too far out and risk having nowhere to retreat to. After about half a mile, he brings the Jeep to a stop, stepping on to the vast reptilian skin of the mud flat and testing his weight against it. Satisfied, he begins to unload the equipment with Shrike's help. As Shrike starts fiddling with the tent, Martin starts pounding some kind of spike into the cracks of the sun-baked mud with a rubber mallet.

After the first, he moves the next. Shrike watches him go about the process. A curious sight. Surely he knows she could create the appropriate holes in the earth more quickly than he can. Perhaps some kind of unique method is required for whatever he is doing? Regardless, he does not ask, so Shrike does not offer. They rely on each other, and optimally should function as a single unit, tasks delegated to whoever is best suited. She trusts him, implicitly, without exception.

The one truly stable point of connection to humans. A mind she cannot understand in full, but a mind she knows well. One that is protective of her almost to the point of infantilizing her. One that is vulnerable in the soft moments. She returns to her own task, playing music from her phone. The soft tempo of dreamlike folk rings out as she sets up the large, multi-room tent. There is something nostalgic about the music, for a time and place she can't remember. She is grateful that music appeals to her.

So many human things are kept just out of reach, but this is something she can share and experience with others, and enjoy on her own in the coldest hours of moonlight. She smiles as a favorite song comes on, looking over at Martin, who is still toiling away. She lights the fire with a short burst of heat from her hand, taking in the glow. Damned flies and mosquitoes and whatever, Martin thinks. Little bastards have bit him a hundred times already. No amount of insect repellant seems to help.

Meanwhile, the insects completely avoid Shrike's burning heat. Lucky. Damn it, he can't take this.

"Shrike." She turns her head over to look at him, smiling next to the fire. Smiling at him, as the brilliant flame dances in her eyes. He averts his gaze.

"Can you do anything about these damn bugs?" Shrike nods, surrounding him tightly in hexagonal tessellations of transparent light. He watches the light expand outward to allow him range of motion, as it twinkles in dozens of tiny dots, each one an insect bumping itself against the barrier. He looks back over at Shrike, who has already turned her attention back to the fire. It's just that simple for her, isn't it? He laughs at himself, for avoiding asking her for so long.

She does so much on these hunts, more than he can bring to the table, but she's never once complained, mentioned it, or even seemed to acknowledge it after she vowed to protect him to keep herself from slipping into hibernation. Like it's nothing. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. He needs to return the trust she has in him.

"While you're at it, would you mind setting a few hundred holes in a grid, each hole about a foot apart?" She nods, spearing down light in rows, raising the spears back up and recycling them for the next to conserve her energy. Two hours of work done in under a minute.

"Thanks for that. You don't mind doing all the heavy lifting out here, right?" She tilts her head.

"I do not, though I do not understand why you pose the question. It is the purpose of my presence here. Is it not self-evident?" Such a strange creature, they think in unison. Martin explains the point of the holes Shrike made as he drops in the last long, thin spike. They are a barrier, each spike magically sealed to be difficult to remove. The amikuk can't move through tempered metal, and if it moves at high speed, it'll impale itself. If not, then it at least means they won't be grabbed from below.

Shrike moves the tent to the center of the spikes, and Martin hammers it into place. Perfect. After a dinner of fire-roasted hot dogs and a deceptively long discussion about ideal marshmallow roasting, they enter into their sleeping bags. Shrike plugs her battery into the small generator that doubles as a lure for the amikuk, and gets comfortable in a few warm blankets. She turns over to see Martin loading his revolver, keeping it and a few other pieces of gear at hand.

A few extra spikes, the strange black orb he refuses to talk about, and an older style alarm clock with bells on the top.

"Martin?" She asks.

"If it's about the orb, I'm still not telling."

"It is not that. Do you feel as though you are incapable in the field in comparison to me?" Martin stays quiet.

"I am inept with human nuance, but I am observant. You often hesitate to ask for my assistance, despite it being the most efficient option." Martin still says nothing, his mind swirling with a mix of embarrassment, remorse, and frustration.

"You need not be worried. I am entirely unfamiliar with the techniques you use, the strategies you employ, the knowledge you have on our prey. Further, I have never viewed you as anything besides a paragon of competence. Few mistakes, astounding successes." She clears her throat performatively, having seen others do the same when embarrassed.

"I... apologize if I have misread the situation." Martin bites his lip before speaking.

"Nope, that was dead on. Thanks, Shrike."

"You are welcome. Remember that I trust you wholly and entirely. Though I understand skepticism in all things, I would like to make a selfish request. Please have more confidence in yourself, if only by virtue of my perfect faith in you. Good night, Martin."

"Good night, Shrike." His voice almost cracked at the end. He's glad it didn't, as he tightly shuts his eyes. He'll be damned if she makes him cry a third time. The ground rumbles beneath them. Martin nudges Shrike awake, as she perks up instantly. She creates a small light, as Martin motions to leave the tent.

"Shrike, remember the thing you did at the top of the stairs a couple weeks ago? Can you make that here to keep us off the ground?"

"Yes. I could additionally spike the bottom of the platform, though in addition to our shielding I will have few resources left."

"No need. It senses vibration, so we're invisible if we're off the ground." Shrike nods, summoning the platform about a foot above the flat, and climbs on top with Martin.

"I apologize for the texture. I am unsure why, but all of my projections are slippery."

"You're fine. Now we wait. It will probe around with its tentacles first. We need to keep as many of them from going back underground as we can without severing them. Harder that it looks, since they're so malleable. My plan is for you to do it. You can bind it much faster than I can. I'll follow up with a more permanent hold when I can."

"Very well. I will attempt different methods for each tentacle until one succeeds."

"Perfect." As if on cue, a tentacle raises through the dirt, as it feels around for the generator. Once found, another tentacle emerges, picking it up like it's nothing and shaking it curiously. The first tentacle is speared through its thickest point with a golden needle. The second is held in place with a ring of light that slowly tightens around it. It easily slips through the ring, but the needle is unmoving as the Amikuk forcefully yanks on it.

Martin can see Shrike's strain to keep it in place, and throws the alarm clock a distance away, the ringing and vibration attracting the second tentacle again, which Shrike pierces in an identical manner to the first. Martin jumps off the platform, spare spikes and gun in hand, and shoots a hole through the second tentacle before holding it in place through the wound with a spare spike. A third tentacles comes up to intervene, but Shrike impales it as well, concentration diverted across every projection.

With a sound like broken glass and tearing aluminum, the first tentacle frees itself, returning into the cold cracked mud with a low rumble. Martin secures the third in the same way as the second: a bullet hole followed by spike hammered into place through the freshly made pilot hole with the butt of his revolver. The first tentacle snakes its way through the barrier of metal spikes, getting underneath Martin.

Before he can relocate behind a few rows of the spikes, it lunges from the ground and grabs him around the waist. It raises him up, ready to smash him against the ground. Shrike dismisses her platform, saving her capacity, and summons a blade that smoothly severs the writhing appendage. Martin falls against the ground a few feet, rolling into a kneeling position as he readies himself.

Without warning, the amikuk tries to lunge upwards in an attempt to free its stuck appendages, but catches itself on a few of the spikes in the ground. They remain unmoving despite the force, including one now pierced through the top of its mouth.

"It's just below the surface, Shrike!" Martin calls, pointing at the location with the barrel of his gun. She dismisses all of her current projections, shielding for both of them included, as she closes her eyes. Something dimly flickers in her mind. A fractal, of a sort. Her mind is a flat plane of dirt, as she envisions a great tree trunk emerging from ground, crashing through the ground.

As it expands, branches form off it it in a precise pattern, and those branches in turn produce offshoots of their own in an identical way. She knows she doesn't have enough energy to continue for more iterations than two, so she opens her eyes to see if it was enough. The amikuk is torn into pieces, bleeding chunks hanging from the tall iridescent fractal like apples rotting on their branches.

"Holy hell. That's amazing. Incredible work, Shrike! And thanks for the save." He smiles confidently at the job well done. Shrike gives a tired smile, dismissing the tree into uncountable tiny fragments that glitter before fading, causing the amikuk chunks to drop to the ground with splattering bounces. Shrike sits down on the ground by the fire, exhausted from the display, but happy she remembered what to do. Only two iterations, though.

Somewhere deep in her memory, she remembers doing five iterations in a tree as tall as a redwood. Maybe it was a false memory, she thinks, or perhaps a dream... She shakes herself back to the present, smiling as Martin sits down next to her.

"Insane," Martin says.

"Is that what you meant by 'Tree' back with the Nemean Lion?"

"Yes. It can be larger, but I am tired."

"That's kind of terrifying. I'm glad you're on my side." He playfully punches her shoulder.

"Okay. You're obviously wiped. Let me handle the cleanup." She starts to protest, but relents. No point in exhausting herself to the point of passing out. Martin starts the process of collecting the spikes by tapping them in a specific pattern, making them pop up like prairie dogs. Shrike sees a nearby chunk of the amikuk, and curiosity slowly gets the better of her. She takes it in her hand, and roasts it a bit with her extra stored heat. She tentatively bites into it, and immediately spits it out.

It tastes exactly like a mouthful of salt and dirt. She sees Martin looking at her, and they both start laughing after a brief pause. Shrike lays down on the sun-baked bricks beneath her, the millions of stars in the sky easily visible without the pollution of city lights. Within a minute, she is sound asleep. Martin smiles at seeing her, continuing the clean up. Gather the remains, burn them and say a simple mantra to prevent them from reviving, then removing the rest of spikes.

A long night for him, but he's not going to wake Shrike to help. She's earned that rest.

"You are not taking the same route to the causeway as was done when entering." Shrike watches out the window in the morning, the Jeep diverting down a side road.

"Mhmm. I want to check something where the Jordan River lets out. Hand me the spotting scope from my bag?" Shrike rifles through the gear for the scope, careful not to trigger anything in the disorganized duffel. Upon finding it, she hands it to him, as he pulls to the side of the road, scratching his hand. He's a mess of insect bites.

"Mind doing one of your insect barriers for me?"

"With pleasure."

"Great. Okay, come with me." Shrike follows close behind him, the barrier working as it did yesterday. Though the barrier is more energy consuming than Martin seems to realize, she sees no reason to tell him that. Martin extends the scope to her.

"Here, point this out towards that taller rock." Shrike takes the scope, carefully holding it to her eye. She focuses it, letting her vision coalesce into dozens and dozens of white pelicans. She offers a wide-eyed glance to Martin, who just winks and returns to the Jeep. She looks back at the bizarre birds, resting on the edge of the water, floating on the low waves, even scooping up mouthfuls of small fish. As she watches the pelicans, Martin takes the opportunity to recline back and get a little extra sleep.

His tired mind drifts, eventually mooring itself on the symbiosis between clownfish and anemones. He entertains which one he would be in the pair. Looking out at Shrike staring intently across the water, he gets a pretty good idea of which. She could pull off orange and white, right? He smiles at the thought, closing his eyes and laying a broad arm across his face to shield him from the morning light.