Extinct (11 page)

A tan sedan pulled down the driveway and parked alongside the fence as Brad set the ladder down.

Brad walked up to within ten feet of the car and waited for the man to get out.

The man looked tired, but extremely precise. He glanced through the car window at Brad, gave him a single, clipped nod and then opened the car door. His feet hit the gravel drive together, perpendicular to the car, and the man stood with one quick motion, not pushing against the doorframe or pulling on the door for assistance. Brad just watched, not making any movement to introduce himself or greet the man. The man wore a golf shirt and crisp khaki pants—no pleat.

When the man stood to his full height, Brad was surprised. Brad stood about six-foot two, and didn’t expect to be dwarfed by the man in the tan sedan. The man was thin, too. Brad guessed they probably weighed the same, even though the man stood several inches taller. The man removed his sunglasses and perched them atop his crew cut before he closed the door and approached Brad.

The man put out his hand to Brad.

“Good morning, sir,” the man said. “I’m Herm Gunther, I want to talk to you about your plants?”

“Plants?” Brad asked.

“Yes," Herm said. “Your name is Brad Jenkins, correct? You gave a sample to Stayev-ross Orestus last Tuesday?”

“Yesterday,” Brad said, nodding.

“I’m sorry?” asked Herm.

“I gave a sample to STAVross OrestES
yesterday
. On Tuesday,” Brad said. He crossed his arms and looked at Herm’s shoes. They were casual boat shoes, which Herm wore with no socks. Brad could see a half inch of bright white ankle between the shoes and the khakis. He guessed Herm’s ankles didn’t get much sun. His hands and forearms did though, Brad saw tan lines about halfway down the man’s biceps.

“Would you be more comfortable if we moved inside?” asked Herm.

“No, I’m fine here,” Brad said.

“Do you have a cell phone on you by any chance?” asked Herm.

“Yes, I do,” Brad said. He didn’t move for a second, but then pulled the phone from his back pocket and waved it at Herm.
 

“Good," Herm said. “Would you like to check the date?”

“Okay?” Brad said, with a hint of uncertainty creeping into the edges of his voice. The phone informed him of the current date: Thursday, July twenty-first. Brad’s eyes shifted from side to side as he tried to figure out where Wednesday had gone. He remembered Tuesday, then writing a letter, and then going to bed a little early. How was it Thursday?

Herm watched Brad’s puzzlement and rubbed his eyes while Brad tried to piece together his calendar. “These plants are close to your house?” he asked.

“No,” Brad said. “No, they’re out back. Who are you again?”

“I’m Herm Gunther," the man said. “I work for USDA on the abatement of aquatic and arboreal invasives. Have you taken any trips to Georgia or South Carolina recently?”
 

“Nope,” Brad said. “I’ve been right here. Are you saying that plant is from Georgia.”

“More than likely," Herm said. “It’s been on the Federal Noxious Weed list for years, but it’s just starting to show up in other parts of the country. Would you mind showing me where you took the clipping?”

“Well, perhaps,” Brad said. He put his hands on his hips and then thrust them into his pockets. “I’m, uh, I’m a little concerned though.”

“Concerned?” asked Herm.

“Well, I’m not sure why, but the last time I was out back I kept going into a little of a dream state or something. I know this sounds weird, but maybe since you’ve heard of this plant, you’ve heard of this as well?”

“Dream state?” asked Herm.

“Yeah,” Brad said. “It was… It was like I became unconscious for a few moments. I thought maybe it was a sound or a chemical the plant is giving off?”

“Did you see any out of place puddles, patches of fog, boulders, piles of sand, or lava flows?” asked Herm.

“Lava flows?” Brad asked. “Do you think I would be talking to you about plants if I’d seen any out of place lava flows?”

“Flows or pools—any molten or even iridescent metals?” asked Herm.

“No,” Brad said. “But a boulder, yes. I did see an out of place boulder.”

“And the boulder was with the plants?” asked Herm.

“Yes,” Brad said.

“Did you hear a loud ‘tock’ sound, like a giant clock?” asked Herm.

“Yes. It was more like a click, but yes,” Brad said.

“Thank you," Herm said. He walked back to his car and opened the door. Herm reached across the seat and his torso disappeared from Brad’s view for a second. When he reappeared, he was holding a hand-held radio unit. “Can you show me the area now?”

“Like I said, I’m a little concerned,” Brad said.

“Don’t worry," Herm said. “I’ve read about this. We’ll be fine. I’ll call into the office, and if we don’t check back in, one of my co-workers will come. But there’s really nothing to be worried about.”

“Okay,” Brad said. He was still hesitant, but Herm knew about both the rock and the clicking sound, so he felt inclined to go along with him. Plus, Herm seemed very professional—not likely to take unwarranted risks, despite how tired the man looked.
 

“Let me just change my shoes first,” Brad said. “You might want to consider socks, if you’ve got them.”

“Thanks, I’m fine," Herm said.

Brad shrugged and walked over to his side door. He kept his boots on the tile floor of his entryway, so he sat down on the porch to change into them. While Brad laced up the boots, Herm just stood there, looking off into the distance.
 

“Hey, um, Mister …” Brad said. He couldn’t remember the man’s name. It was something silly sounding—weird nickname—he remembered.

“Herm," the man said, “call me Herm.”

“Thank you, Herm. You can call me Brad. May I ask, what was the rock thing I saw out back?” Brad asked.

“I have no idea," Herm said.
 

“But you mentioned rocks as part of your list, with the lava flows, and the iridescent metal, and the mist?” Brad asked.

“Patches of fog," Herm said. “Yes, it’s one of the things I read about.”

“Read about from?” Brad asked.

“We get bulletins from the Office of Communications. The rocks were mentioned with your plants in one of those," Herm said.

“Huh,” Brad said. “But they didn’t say what they were?”

“Probably not important," Herm said. “I just need to make an identification for the abatement group.”

Brad finished with his boots and stood up. He walked past Herm and waved for the man to follow. "And the abatement group does what, exactly?” Brad asked.

“They just work to eradicate or control the invasive infestation. You can imagine—herbicides, bush hogs, maybe some burning," Herm said.

“Sounds like it’s going to cost me,” Brad said.

“Nope," Herm said. “Your tax dollars at work. It’s for the common good, so the government foots the bill.”

“Good to know,” Brad said. He held open the gate between the driveway and the field and let Herm walk through first. He pointed ahead and said, “Straight back to the other gate.”

“You’ve probably seen our guys before on the side of the highway with the orange jumpsuits. We get a lot of invasives along the highway, from tourists," Herm said.

“I can imagine,” Brad said. Brad noted how talkative Herm had gotten once they were underway. But it seemed like just as quickly as the conversation began, it was over. Herm didn’t offer any more information.

Herm walked at a fast pace. Brad unlatched the back gate and Herm was already dozens of paces away by the time Brad buttoned the gate back up. Brad dropped into a half-jog to catch up with the tall man.

“You might want to watch your step,” Brad said. “Those things grow at a pretty fast pace, and I wouldn’t envy you if one wrapped around your ankle.”

“Thanks," Herm said.

They walked in silence for a while down Brad’s path to the back clearing. Walking side by side, they brushed the trees and bushes which crowded in from the sides. Brad usually cleared the brush along the path once or twice a month during the summer when he wasn’t too busy with work. This year he’d have to wait until fall, when the weeds were a bit more manageable.

Brad broke the silence when they had walked about halfway to the clearing, “So,” he said, “how long have you worked for the USDA?”

“Ten years," Herm said. The answer came fast and didn’t reveal anything to Brad. He usually got a sense of whether someone liked their job just by how they answered that question. A sigh, a smile, a head-tilt all meant something, but Herm snapped off his answer and kept his eyes moving, scanning the sides of the path.

“Good work?” Brad asked.

“The best," Herm said. His tone stayed flat.

“Wait,” Brad said. He put out his hand to stop Herm, but Herm had already stopped. “Did you hear it?”

“No," Herm said.
 

“I thought I heard a click,” Brad said. “Probably just a squirrel.”

Herm started walking again. Brad fell in behind him and Herm picked up the pace, walking fast up the hill to the clearing. Herm stopped at the edge of the weeds.

“I should have brought a knife or something,” Brad said. “Did you want a sample.”

Herm didn’t answer right away, he scanned the tree line at the far edge of the clearing. Brad knelt to look at the vines, but Herm stayed upright.

“You saw a rock over there?” Herm finally asked.
 

Brad looked up; Herm pointed to the spot where Brad last saw the mysterious spinning boulder.

“Yeah, that’s the spot,” Brad said. “How did you know?”

Herm bent down and reached for the end of a vine.

“Careful!” Brad said, shuffling back a half-step.

Herm’s hand never slowed. He snatched the very tip of a vine between his fingers and pulled it back. The vine thrashed as Herm pulled it back. Brad moved out of the way and Herm stretched the vine several feet before it pulled taut. The vine stopped trying to flip and curl as Herm tugged. Brad stepped to Herm’s side and leaned in to look at how Herm was holding the vine. The very tip curled around Herm’s index finger, but it didn’t look like it had sunk any thorns into the man’s flesh.

“Is it what you thought it was?” Brad asked. “The thing from Georgia, or whatever?”

Herm didn’t answer. He tugged at the vine several times, about once every two seconds. Flowers popped open near the base of the vine. He tugged four more times and flowers, orange and purple, started opening on the suspended portion of the vine.

They heard a loud “tock,” from somewhere on the other side of the clearing, deep in the woods. Herm stopped tugging.

“Back up," Herm said.

Brad scrambled back down the path and Herm backed up until he held the vine at arm’s length. He dropped the vine and stepped away. The vine floundered and twisted. Each flop brought it closer back to the vine patch until it regained the company of its fellow vines.

Herm reached to the radio clipped to his belt. He pressed a button on the side twice and then turned towards Brad.
 

“We should head back," Herm said.

Brad could barely make out what Herm said. A loud “TOCK!” interrupted the sentence, but Brad got the gist. Brad started down the hill first and Herm followed close behind. The heard a few more of the loud clicking noises while they walked, but the volume decreased as they moved away from the clearing.
 

“So that’s what you expected?” Brad asked over his shoulder as they walked.

“Yes," Herm said.

“You’re going to get people out here to remove those vines?” Brad asked. “I can’t believe those things are commonplace. They seem pretty extraordinary. I’ve never seen plants move or spontaneously bloom.”

“We’ll get a crew out here as soon as we can," Herm said.

“When do you think that will be?” Brad asked. They reached the bottom of the hill and started back up the small slope to the yard.

“I don’t have any insight into the schedule," Herm said.

Brad opened the gate and let Herm through. He thought twice about shutting it—instead, he swung the big gate open and pinned it open to a pole sticking up from the ground. He did the same to the other side of the big gate, so a truck could drive through.

“I’ll leave these open,” Brad said. “For the crew.”

“Thank you," Herm said.

Herm headed back up to his car while Brad walked over to the gate on the road. He repeated the procedure, opening the front gate to give access to vehicles pulling in from the road. When Brad got back up to the house, Herm was talking to someone on his radio. Brad arrived in time to hear Herm signing off.

“Will do," Herm said.

“So, just the vines, a rock, and the clicking sound? Nothing else strange?” Herm asked.

“Yes,” Brad said. “Isn’t that enough?”

Herm smiled and said, “Yes, I think so. Do you mind if I sit here in my car for a few minutes? I’ve got some paperwork to fill out.”

“No problem,” Brad said. “Do you want to come inside and use a table?”

“No, thanks, I’ve got everything I need in here," Herm said. He patted the roof of the tan sedan.

Brad crossed the driveway and sat down on his front steps to take off his boots. The ladder leaning against the front of the garage drew his eye. Brad thought about what Herm asked him—“Nothing else strange?” Did a giant hole next to the back foundation of his garage qualify as something strange? If he’d taken Herm out the back door instead of down through the side yard, the man would have already seen the hole and probably asked about it. But, as it stood, Herm didn’t know about the hole. Brad made a snap decision—he wouldn’t tell anyone about the hole until he investigated it further himself. He welcomed the idea of a team of workers in orange jumpsuits who would come and rip out all the killer vines from the back pasture, but as for the hole, he wanted a chance to evaluate his new discovery.

Tucking his laces into his boots instead of retying them, Brad walked over to his ladder. He glanced at Herm, but Herm was sitting in the sedan with his head bent over some papers. Brad picked up the ladder and carried it back into the garage. He walked it around his truck and to the door to the mudroom. From his mudroom, he carried the ladder out to the back deck. He backtracked to take one more look at Herm, to make sure he was still busy with his papers, and then Brad hauled his short ladder over to the side of the hole.