This time he opened the door with a big smile instead of the scowl of a deranged lunatic. She handed him one of the to-go cups she held. He noted with appreciation that she’d gotten him the largest available size.
He took a long pull of the hot drink, not caring if he burned his throat. He was surprised to find she knew he liked his coffee with lots of sugar and a shot of cinnamon dolce flavor.
“Have you been talking to Francine about me?”
“No comment. Why?”
“You know how I like my coffee.”
She laughed. “Yeah, well, so does Katina at the Bean Me Up coffee kiosk around the corner.”
Raphael cracked a smile, remembering that Katina took gleeful credit for forcing him to try the cinnamon dolce flavor. The word cinnamon made him think of Francine’s hair.
Where are you, Francine?He grabbed his phone and apartment key off the counter, shoving them into his pockets. Together, he and Lucy headed out to find Francine.
Lucy’s concern was starting to rub off. He’d feel better when they found out she wasn’t answering because she’d silenced her phone for a meeting at work or something equally innocent.
Diesel arrived at the sheriff’s station in Skeeter Bite faster than lickety split, expecting to face no less than three world-ending plagues as set forth in Earther biblical times.
He didn’t even make it to the door when Wyatt, dressed in his uniform complete with gun belt, burst out and pointed to his cruiser. It gleamed from a recent wash as morning light bounced off the hood. Diesel hopped in the passenger side as Wyatt got behind the wheel, started the cruiser and took off like a shot.
“You gonna maybe tell me what’s going on?” Diesel asked, hanging on for dear life as his brother-in-law sped through town like the devil himself was on their tail.
Wyatt shook his head. “This is something you have to see for yourself. Don’t know that I could rightly describe it anyway.”
They drove north for about fifteen minutes before Wyatt turned left onto an old county road and then right after a mile or so onto a dirt road next to a field of what looked like rice. Diesel’s phone buzzed in his pocket, letting him know someone had texted him. A second buzz sounded. He ignored it, making a mental note to check the messages when he got back to the truck stop.
After they’d bounced along the dirt road for a few minutes, Diesel looked out the window.
“Do you see the problem?” Wyatt asked.
“Yep.” The careful rows of rice planted side by side in a large field—or paddy—that had to be at least a hundred acres square had been disturbed in what looked like a very violent way. The few remaining plants stood forlornly in muddy water.
Wyatt parked his cruiser and they got out for a closer look.
There were several untouched rows along the sides of the paddy. In the center, it looked like a large animal had burrowed through the field without plan or reason, uprooting easily a fifth of the crop.
“What in the world did that?”
Wyatt huffed. “You tell me and we’ll both know. Could it be one of those alien beasts like what I found out on Lovers’ Lane that time?”
Diesel squinted. “I mean, I guess it’s possible. I haven’t heard of any new beasts being registered by arriving transports. At least not anything that could do this. Then again, transports aren’t always aware of what their wily passengers bring along.”
“Not reassuring,” Wyatt said below his breath, adding, “The other thing you might not notice in all the chaos out there is the rice is gone. There is not a single grain left in all that destruction.”
“What?”
“Whatever did this either ate or took all that nearly ready to harvest rice from the plants that were disturbed. The green stalks were cast aside like so much chaff.”
“That’s a lot of rice.”
“Yep. So one of those alien sand beast things or whatevercouldhave done this, right?” He whispered the word “alien.”
“It’s possible, but not really credible.”
“The farmer is beside himself, asking me what could have done this. I’ll be honest, I’m having trouble thinking up any plausible way to explain it. Clearly, ‘gas leak’ isn’t going to work. Any suggestions?”
