“Damn’ it, whadda ya mean, ‘the calves ‘ain’t been
fed yet?!’” The night
was pitch black and chill with damp. Ned caught
a brief glimpse of Willy’s scrawny, stubbled face as the hired hand lit a cigarette. “I dunno,” Willy muttered, tugging at the visor
of his cap. “Joe was supposed to do it, but I ‘ain’t seen him, and here’s
the milk, so...I guess it ‘ain’t been done.” Ned clenched his teeth and swore. What
was he paying these idiots for, anyway? If he knew Joe, he was off getting a
quick lay from that little tramp who worked at the liquor store, out on the highway.
‘Next time he saw that slacking bum, he’d fire his ass for sure.
“All right...come on, let’s do it.” “Now? Aw, boss, it’s pitch dark, and I’m
tired.” “I can see it’s dark, Wilson, and I’m tired,
too. Tired of having to do everything my own goddamn’ self on this farm.
Now, move your ass, or you’re history!” Willy shrugged, stamped out his cigarette and picked
up half the plastic milk bottles. Ned picked up the other
half, and they started out, past the chicken coops, out towards the barn.
Ned could dimly make out the light mist of the nightly drizzle in the yellow wash
of his flashlight beam. Not much else, though. He muttered obscenities
under his breath all the way to the barn. He should be in his bedroom now,
warm and comfortable and screwing his wife, not catching his death on a
night like this, feeding damn’ calves. He’d make Joe pay for this one.
The lazy crumb would probably be too hung over by tomorrow to even help
with milking, or slaughter. Typical. The irritating buzz of Willy’s cheap little
radio didn’t make this night any better. “Will you turn that crap off?!” “Jeeze, I’m just trying to find some music,
to make the time go by, that’s all. Jeeze.” Instead of music, the only clear transmission
he could get was some University egg head talking to some reporter.
The egg head sounded like some jerk, with a nasal voice and a German accent.
“And, the data from every observatory proves beyond any doubt that the
phenomenon is actually an intersection between our universe and another.” “Another universe?” the female reporter asked.
Ned recognized her voice. She used to be on T.V. Not bad to look at, as
black girls went. “Yes. Our universe is expanding.
So is this other one with which we’ve collided, and they are passing through each other.
We can’t even begin to guess what effect this will have as the interface
continues to spread. Two separate time-space continuums, whose basic natural
laws could be entirely dissimilar, bleeding into each other...it could
distort everything.” “Distort, how? What?” “Who knows? Every basic relationship between,
eh...any two particles of matter, or any two things at all. This thing,
that thing...how they relate to each other in the natural pattern of things.
It could all be changed. Turned upside-down. Like players suddenly
switching roles in the middle of a play.” “Turn that garbage off, Willy!” Ned shouted.
Willy grumbled and switched off the radio. They reached the barn. Strangely
quiet as Ned slid the door open and stepped in, the familiar smell of damp hay
filling his nostrils. He flipped the switch for the flood light hanging on
the wall nearby, but nothing happened. “Crap. What now?” “Wiring, I guess. Here, I got the gas
lamp.” Willy got the lamp lit and hung it on a nail, throwing a pale, shadowy light
into the barn. “All right,” Ned sighed. “Let’s get this
over with.” He reached the first calf’s stall, and found it empty. “What
the hell...Willy, did you forget to round up those damn’ calves?!” “No, boss. They wuz in here, all right.
‘Cept now, they ‘aint.” Ned looked around. The door had been closed.
They couldn’t have gotten out. He froze. Where were the cows? They
were all gone. Not a heifer left. He ran from stall to stall, throwing his flashlight
beam into every dark corner, but the barn was empty. The gates on
every stall had been broken off their hinges. He felt a chill and threw his
beam into the rear of the barn. The damn wall had been smashed down, like somebody
had driven a truck through. He couldn’t believe his eyes. Damn’ cattle
rustlers, for God’s sake! His blood burned with anger. Then,
froze to solid ice as Willy screamed in horror, like a little girl. “Oh, muh God...Oh, muh God...” “What is it?!” “It’s...Oh, muh God.” His face was bleach
white, his eyes like saucers. He stammered incoherently as he feebly gestured towards
one of the empty calf stalls. Which wasn’t really empty, Ned saw.
There was a man’s bloodied hand sticking out of the stall, resting on reddened
hay. Ned’s breathing was hard and shallow, his knees weak and his feet stuck
in molasses as he forced himself to get closer. His stomach leapt into
his throat as he saw it, his hand going over his mouth as he averted his eyes.
What was left of Joe was all over the stall, his blood splattered all over
the walls. He’d been cut open like a slaughtered cow, parts of him eaten out raw, it looked
like. The wide-eyed expression frozen on his ash-pale face told Ned he’d
still been alive when it happened. Last time he’d seen eyes with that
expression, they were staring out of a cow as he’d brought the sledge down
on its head. Willy started screaming and babbling hysterically.
Ned grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him, but it didn’t do any
good. So, he slapped him, hard, across the face. “Get hold of yourself,
Willy! We got to call the law. Right now, you understand?” “N-Nothin’ human did this, I tell ya.
Y-y-you saw him, didn’t ya? Eaten alive. Nothin’ human.” Ned jumped half
out of his skin as he heard wood breaking. Something was pounding at the walls,
trying to break into the barn. It was all around him, the pounding so loud,
it felt like the beams and rafters might give way any second. As though
a hundred men with battering rams were trying to break the walls down.
Willy screamed and dropped his flashlight just as something knocked the
gas lantern from its nail. The lantern crashed to the floor, and
a bit of hay in a dry corner caught fire. The flashlight slipped
from Ned’s numb fingers. In the flickering firelight, a dark shadow
fell across the wall behind him. A tall shadow with horns. “It’s the devil,” Willy screamed. “It’s the
devil, come to claim us!” Ned ran out the door, into the black, inky night.
He couldn’t think. He could only run. Back towards the house, towards
his wife, Ginny. He had to get her, get the truck and go. He heard Willy
screaming in pain, begging for help, but he couldn’t stop. His hair stood
on end as he heard Willy’s flesh being torn from his bones. As the fire
spread, he smelled something he hadn’t smelled since his last barbecue. And,
he heard the sound of chewing. Of teeth tearing fresh-cooked meat,
and of lips smacking. And, something else, too. A sound of
metal ringing against metal. Like a ghost rattling a chain.
Or, some monstrous dinner bell. He reached the house, and found the door
broken down, clean off its hinges. It was black as a box inside.
He tried the lights, but they wouldn’t work. He found the spare flashlight in the tool
box under the stairs. He switched it on, and found the place in shambles.
Someone or something had smashed open the walls and ripped out the wiring. “Ginny!” he screamed, running up the stairs to the
bedroom. “Ginny!!” He found her, stretched out on the
bed. Alive, but just barely, by
the look of her. Her pretty blue eyes were as wide and terrified
as Willy’s had been. She was pale as bone, and he could swear her
blonde hair had turned prematurely white. She looked more like a
crone of sixty than the 23-year-old woman she was. “Ginny, honey...come
on, we gotta...” Christ almighty. Her arms and legs looked
like they’d been broken in about a dozen places, all twisted every
which way, so she couldn’t move. Her blouse had been torn to shreds.
Her bra torn off. And, her breasts...once fine and full and round...looked like
two deflated tires. The nipples were red and raw. And, there
were marks around them, like...God. Something had been nursing from
her. Something with teeth. “They milked me,” she whispered in a choked,
constricted voice, staring blankly at the ceiling. “They milked me.”
He jumped. Someone or something was coming up the stairs. Something
big. Clomping up the stairway, the wood creaking under its weight.
“Oh, God,” she whimpered. “They’re coming back.” He heard the clanging of metal again, and heard heavy
footsteps in the hall. His flesh a mass of goosebumps, he lifted
the flashlight, his hand trembling. There, in the doorway, stood a black-and-white
milk cow. Her large black eyes shined with cruel intellect.
Her horns were tipped with blood. Her legs and hooves were splattered
with blood, too. She chewed her cud, and blood dribbled from the
corner of her mouth, onto the floor. She spat something out.
He saw it was a human finger. She shambled through the door, the bell around
her neck clanging. He saw more of her sisters moving down the corridor behind
her, all coming towards him. Their eyes glared hungrily. They snorted,
their nostrils flaring, their breath white steam. They made a sound he didn’t
know cows could make. An angry, vengeful roar. As they cornered
him and moved in, he understood. It was time for the milking and
the slaughter. Only, the players had switched roles.