Kacie-B: The Redeemers

By R.B. Ashton

Mother Nature's biting back.
Everyone's on the menu.

Kacie crossed a powerful man and no one's on her side. With the money and work the fuel tycoons brought to Samber Dew, those that didn't turn a blind eye said she brought it on herself.

But they should have listened to her. Now it's too late. Something's stirring under idyllic Culvanna County – waking up to the injustice and abuse.

Waking up hungry.

Wherever it came from, it feels Kacie's pain. It looks like Kacie – but this version is big enough to fight back.

You'll love R.B. Ashton's debut monster horror, because it's a heart-stopping thrill-ride on a truly massive scale. Get it now.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Neringa Press
• Release date: Oct 29, 2018
• ISBN: 9798201990954

Book preview

Part 1

1

R eady? Fredericks asked, the final green light blinking on. One switch away from starting the fourth drill in the hilly backwater of Fairway Pines. This was the one the protesters hated the most, way up by the quarry, deep in nature. Not that there was any wildlife worth saving. Scavenging rodents and insects whose bites itched for weeks, who needed them? The townspeople of nearby Samber Dew could rot too, as far as Fredericks cared. They spent their too-hot days bitching and their too-cold nights fighting drunk.

His colleague Keith grunted, shifting in his swivel-chair, one hand on his keyboard, the other clutching the stub of a Hershey’s chocolate bar. Fredericks would be happy to be free of that waster, too. The guy ate and never said a word when Fredericks complained about how humid Culvanna County was, or that the quarry stunk like a cesspool.

But he’d be free of it all soon; likely as not no one would notice when these charges went off, and Fredericks could get away before the town stirred. He said, I deserve a goddamn raise. Drill 4 up and running before breakfast.

Just punch it, Keith replied.

Fredericks flipped the switch and watched the monitors. The ground shook beneath them, with a small thump somewhere deep in the ground. The dials piqued. So far so good. Another shake and another thump, louder.

All normal, Keith said. Fredericks was about to reply when his colleague yawned, not even covering his mouth.

The third charge went off, and the room shook. Keith’s mug flew off the desk and shattered. The men shared a surprised look. Fredericks snapped, You god-damned idiot, you gave it too much –

A shock wave cut him off, the room shaking violently. A cabinet toppled as Fredericks jumped to his feet. Keith’s eyes locked on him, too dumbstruck to move, chocolate halfway to his mouth.

Not good, Fredericks said. The walls rattled, it wasn’t stopping. No way it was a badly primed charge. Something worse. A gas pocket?

It’s the gas, Keith shared the thought, motionless. It’ll blow the whole lot . . .

No chance – that’s not –

With a terrific crack, the rear wall split, up the middle. The place shuddered all around them. An earthquake, maybe. Was it possible they’d split the quarry wall? One of the idiot things those ignorant protesters had feared. But if the pipe had been set in the wrong direction – unlikely, but maybe –

The light exploded above Fredericks’ head, making him duck. Get out of here!

Leaving Keith gawking at the ceiling, Fredericks sprinted for the door. He shouldered his way out, tripping down the steps from the control room to the ground. As he stumbled away, a crack spread over the unit’s outside wall, the shakes tearing the metal structure apart. Good thing it was a prefab – a brick hut would’ve crumbled by now. To the left, the antenna mast lurched. The cables flexed, swung it back the other way, then snapped. They pinged towards the trees like broken guitar strings as the antenna toppled sideways, slow but unstoppable. It swung right through the communications trailer, tearing the box in two with a burst of sparks and debris.

No radioing for help.

The ground moved with the first step Fredericks took, and he almost fell down. He shouted to the control room door, Keith! Move your fat ass!

A fissure ripped through the earth, throwing Fredericks off. A chasm opened before him, splitting wider, one foot, two, tearing towards the other buildings. As it reached the base of the control prefab, the unit tore apart from the bottom up, snapping walls ejecting insulation. Fredericks dodged a chunk of flying metal. He jumped over the shifting ground and sprinted to his Jeep, flung himself in and rammed the key in the ignition. The world shook as he raised his voice in a defiant scream.

Not going out like this, not because some rookie miscalculated the pipeline. Not in this backwater county, the ass end of nowhere.

The engine turned over and he slammed his foot down, reversing. The vehicle hit something hard, smacking him into the wheel. Momentarily stunned, his eyes fixed on the mirror. The ground had risen behind him, a wall of dirt blocking his path.

Whatever was stirring under the ground, it was bursting up from the facility’s center, between the control room and the rec room. Fredericks mouthed disbelief. It wasn’t a quake, and the place wasn’t collapsing: something massive was coming up.

What the hell had they hit?

The buildings shifted as the dirt rippled under it, then something huge burst out, firing fragments of Lot 4 into the sky and over the trees. It wasn’t gas, wasn’t oil. It was swelling upwards. Pushing free. It was unnatural.

Fredericks ran his fingers over the little gold cross at his neck and wished he had a bigger crucifix. Chunks of rock and panels of wall tumbled off it, high above. Something thunked off the roof of the jeep.

To Fredericks’ side, the earth erupted again, more of whatever this thing was ripping free from under the ground. Fredericks fell back across the seat as shards of mud rose past him. He shoved the door open and it slammed shut again, the earth closing in on him. As the Jeep was enveloped, blocking out the light, he screamed.

2

Kacie popped a chocolate -covered pretzel into her mouth. She’d parked her fifteen-year-old beige Honda Accord a good thirty yards from the gates this morning. It was the optimum distance for the news crew to get their footage without getting close enough for anyone to notice she was there. It looked like it would be one worth filming, today. The Monday morning procession of drill workers through the protesters was especially tense, with Leon, big as a wall, squaring off against Sam Raddon, the lanky, shabbily dressed protest leader.

You’re hurting us all! Sam Raddon shouted. For a few extra bucks!

What extra? Leon returned. Who’s got extra?

One of Leon's workmates, Caden Burrows, tried to take his arm, pulling him towards the entrance, telling him it wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t; Sam’s family weren’t as rich as their cousins, the Maines, but if things went south they’d sue Leon for assault all the same.

My money’s on the black, said Torblake, the cameraman. He had his shoulder-mounted camera up and running, the only member of the crew doing his job. Morris, the sound-guy, was playing with his boom mic while Paula Palmer, the reporter, huffed edgily. Hopefully she was thinking the same as Kacie, that she didn’t like Leon being referred to by his skin color. Kacie wasn’t friends with him – wasn’t friends with anyone any more – but Leon at least didn’t actively hate her.

Is it a story if they start throwing punches? Kacie asked. She doubted Palmer was getting any airtime covering these protests. No one back in Samber City cared about the fracking sites, not now most of the drills were up and running. There was something else keeping Palmer’s crew there, which Kacie suspected had more to do with office politics than the news. Kacie wasn’t complaining; as long as they kept coming, she had work driving them around, and she had people to talk to from outside the fishbowl of her town, Samber Dew.

Sorry, Sam Raddon goaded, you’ve got extra expenses now, haven’t you?

Leon came chest to chest with him, building steam.

It’s not news if it’s personal, Palmer muttered.

Yeah, Kacie said. Leon’s court case closed on Saturday. Badly.

Palmer made another noise that said she didn’t approve. A few weeks ago, Leon had laid Christian Maine flat on his ass, and most people in town had hoped he’d get off lightly. People might have sided with Maine over Kacie when she’d accused him of animal abuse and hinted at his unwelcome sexual advances, but they still didn’t like him running his mouth. Leon had stood up to his wisecracks, and had been punished for it. Him, born on the poor side of town, forced to pay Christian Maine, who’d never worked an honest day in his life.

Could be worse, though, Kacie considered. Leon might have been totally ostracized like her.

Say that again! Leon roared. Sam grinned stupidly; trying to show he’d wanted this. Behind Sam, a young woman shuffled back into the crowd, distancing herself from the drama. Kacie squinted at the long dark hair; was that Louise? She tried to catch her eye, but the woman was hiding. Kacie forced herself to look away, trying to ignore the hopeful lift in her heart. If it was Louise, she didn’t want to see Kacie, she’d made that clear.

Odds on a knock-out blow? Torblake said.

Please, Palmer replied. He’s not gonna make the same mistake twice.

He would, Kacie knew it. Sam wasn’t about to back down with a Wrex employee about to make a scene. He went for gold, You’re a sucker for a rotten cause, Leon. Working here, poisoning the Earth – sticking up for lying sluts that scream rape –

A flurry of looks came Kacie’s way. She pretended to scratch her forehead, hiding her face behind her hand.

He’s not worth it Leon, Caden said. Kacie picked out Leon’s friend between her fingers as he positioned himself between the bickering pair. Talk about rotten causes, he’s whining about a drill that’s already running.

It can still be stopped! Sam said.

Give it a rest, Sam. You want to make a difference, get your dad to lean on his friends in Samber Heights.

Change starts here, Caden – right here – with you. You’re complicit! Sam fired a look at Leon, around Caden. Or do you only fight for things that might fuck you?

I didn’t want to fuck her! Leon yelled, bursting forward again.

Kacie dropped her hand. Even more faces were staring at her, with familiar looks of disgust. Were they seriously going to fight about how unfuckable she was?

Caden raised his voice, trying to push his large friend back, but that only set the mob off. Some were pulling, some pushing, and the whole thing became a disparate mess. One of Raddon’s people got a kick in and another worker returned a vicious shove that knocked someone to the floor.

Well, it’s something, Torblake said.

Workers Lash Out Over A Guilty Conscience? Palmer suggested a headline.

More like Local Boys Measure Their Dicks, Kacie said. These guys are struggling to pay rent and they’ve gotta take shit from people with family lawyers?

Palmer’s face fell, guiltily.

It makes good stock footage, if nothing else, Torblake said.

It finished as quickly as it started, as people from both sides pulled their friends away. Leon was shouting threats from the facility entrance and Raddon was grinning, proud of the blood trickling down his jaw. He’d leave it there all day, pretending he enjoyed pushing people’s buttons. You all saw it, didn’t you? He swung at me!

The Sheriff’s black and white station wagon rolled up next to the news team. Late, this morning. Sheriff Tailor got out, her freshly pressed uniform and spotless boots offset by her weary expression. She addressed Palmer, Surprised to see you here.

It’s Monday morning, isn’t it?

I mean here as opposed to up at the quarry.

The quarry? Kacie replied. There’d been no news at the quarry for months, not since they’d shut Dew Lot 4 down, saying they were waiting on parts. The news team were never interested in going up there, no matter how much Kacie willed it. That was where she’d been with Maine, the night that changed her life. Part of her wished they’d go up and stumble upon some proof of what had happened there. Another part wanted to forget the place entirely. She asked, What’s happening at the quarry?

Got a call from Moody, Tailor yawned, putting her hat on. She hesitated before shutting the car door. The sound would announce her arrival.

Rough night? Palmer asked.

Joys of having a teenage daughter with a deadbeat dad, Tailor answered candidly. Randolph’s been calling from Tuscon, worried about her staying up late. His week to have her, his problem, I say. That’s the theory, anyway. She shook her head grimly, to say the reality wasn’t anywhere close. Anyway. Up at Lot 4, seems they had someone looking into reopening the site. Apparently their tests made a hell of a noise.

Sound like a story to you? Palmer said.

I came here first, didn’t I? Tailor closed the door and a few heads turned her way. She swaggered towards the crowd, one hand on the bulky pistol holstered at her hip. The jostling died down and the shouting quietened. The childish pleading started.

Sheriff, you seen this shit – they’re provoking my boys!

One of them hit me!

That big fucking Negro is a menace, you know that?

Not the first time he’s done it, is it!

Whatever was at the quarry had to be better than this. Kacie turned to Palmer, This isn’t news, right? Let’s check out Lot 4.

Because some coot in the hills heard noises? Palmer replied.

You’re not curious? Kacie said. They shut it down for a reason, now they make a ruckus starting it up.

Palmer looked to her cameraman for input. He shrugged. The presenter decided, Guess we’re just casting shadows here. Alright, Kacie. Take us to the scene of your crime.

Kacie forced a smile, knowing Palmer was joking in her dry way, but not liking it all the same. Sure, the news crew didn’t buy into the Samber Dew gossip, but that didn’t mean they thought she was innocent. They just didn’t care. That was fine, though. Not caring was what she needed to do. She’d already half-convinced herself she didn’t need anyone else in town, and that all the dirty looks and whispered comments would die down eventually. Going up to the quarry would test how far she’d put it behind her.

3

Amonth had passed since Kacie’s first and last date with Christian Maine. When she’d sat near the quarry fearing this man about to force himself on her, and she’d been saved by the sorrowful cries of an animal in pain. Partly saved. Things hardly got much better from there.

Dew Lot 4 had shut down about a month before that night. Kacie explained, as they made the journey through the winding dirt roads, I guess they got a new part in last week. Finally. Must have tried to sneak it in to avoid the protesters.

So they rushed something and made a mistake, Palmer said, testing a story idea. It was unlikely there was one. The few people who lived in the Fairway Pines hills had complained about the noise from the drills and the charges since Wrex Drilling had started their operation. The woodland was full of life, thick trees flanking the road with blankets of leaves on the ground; if no one cared about that landscape changing, or wildlife dying, they sure didn’t care about the noise of a few explosive charges.

Kacie swung the Accord around a bend, making Torblake and Morris bang into each other in the back. Palmer put a hand on the dashboard. Kacie said, I used to sit at Raven Peak for hours, near the site, where the parking lot overlooked the quarry. Nature’s overtaken it, you’ve got all those plants climbing over these huge stone walls, it’s beautiful.

Kacie imagined Lot 4’s buildings and chain link fences entwined in roots and leaves the same way. She’d said that to Maine, when she’d suggested they go up there, and he’d acted like he cared. She’d been an idiot, won over by the dumb fantasy that a guy as handsome and wealthy as him might think about things the same way as her. They hadn’t even stopped to look at Lot 4, just gone straight on to the peak, with him assuring her there’d be time for sightseeing later.

As they passed the track to Moody’s hut, Kacie asked, You want to make a stop?

We’ve got enough footage of him, Palmer said. Including him urinating.

Kacie suppressed a smirk. Moody was perhaps the only person that genuinely cared about Wrex Drilling tearing up Fairway Pines, shame he was an irreverent drunk.

My dad used to bring me here, Kacie said. We threw stones into the quarry. There were so many deer up here, back then.

Palmer hummed. She’d sympathized when she first heard Kacie’s story, seeming to relate to every detail of a young lady being sidelined by powerful men. But the presenter had said, regretfully, that it wasn’t something they could sell. Powerful men controlled Channel 8 News, after all. And the wider world would adopt the same view as Kacie’s small town: it was easier to believe Kacie had made up what Maine had done, rather than face the reality. The community had decided the deer had tripped over the edge of the quarry, that there was nothing unnatural about it (or if there was, Kacie herself might have pushed it over), rather than ask difficult questions about what to do with Christian Maine. To seal the lie, some anonymous witness, who the police deemed reliable, vouched for seeing Kacie head out there alone. Palmer suggested the witness likely didn’t exist, but with Christian’s family owning half of Culvanna County the truth was a commodity to be bought and sold.

Kacie pushed Christian’s smug face out of her mind. He wasn’t here now, and she was determined to visit the quarry fresh. Enjoy the view like she used to with Dad, rather than with him. Her dad never said much on their trips up here, but they were the most peaceful, content times of Kacie’s life. She’d been fifteen when the trips started getting more frequent, as he chose time with her over his plumbing work. She was sixteen when she learned it was because he had cancer. Seventeen when he died.

After two years of visits up here alone, she’d brought Christian and he’d ruined everything. She wondered, frequently, if she’d ever get that peaceful feeling back. Having endured four weeks of torture as the town turned against her, though, it was time to start trying.

She turned the final bend to the gates to Lot 4.

Kacie braked and Torblake swore as he punched a hand into the back of her seat. What the fuck, Kacie – how many times we gotta –

Shut up! Palmer hissed. Why aren’t you filming this already?

Kacie stared ahead, aghast.

Clearly, there was no going back to the quarry she’d remembered.

TORBLAKE CAME BACK to the car holding out a carton of cigarettes. Kacie shook her head. Don’t smoke.

He took one for himself and lit it, then pointed back towards the drill site. There’s a great big hole behind all the mess. Must be fifty feet deep, like the place collapsed.

Exploded, more like, Kacie said, nodding towards some of the debris that had made it as far as the trees. Half a metal wall had hit a tree trunk, bits of it scattered for meters around. Must’ve cleared at least fifty yards to get there.

She’d waited by her Honda as the news crew surveyed the wreckage. She could see enough from there. The earth had erupted right under the center of Lot 4. There were clumps of equipment and broken bits of chain fencing at the edge of the clearing, but the bulk of the mess was organic. Overturned earth and rocks, a few fallen trees. The ground had cracked and risen in upset chunks, and everything that stood above it, far from being knocked over or thrown aside, was gone. Where was the twenty-foot drill? The antenna mast? The rest of the trailers?

Good news is there’s no sign of people, Torblake said. Found something that looked like a car part, and a wheel, but could be spares.

Maybe they exploded, too, Kacie suggested.

No sign of fire. No smoke. Think it was caused by pressure, if anything.

Why didn’t they radio it through? Call someone?

Torblake went quiet, a silent admission that the lack of people was a bad sign. Someone had definitely been there. The site wouldn’t have been active otherwise. And if someone was there, but no alarm had been sounded, and no clear up teams had come, then they were dead. Yet despite the scale of the destruction, it was calm now. The light covering of roots and grass made it seem like it had happened a decade ago. There was something oddly satisfying about it, as Kacie felt an I told you so gently swelling in her chest.

She pushed it back down, wary of how inappropriate it was.

Torblake took in the hole thoughtfully. Morris and Palmer were peering in.

We’re going down there.

What? Kacie shot up straight.

There’s a slope. A route we could use to get towards the bottom. It looks like there’s an opening, like a cave. Might give a clue to what happened.

You’re crazy, it could all come down!

"We’re first on the scene of a major incident, Kacie. You understand what that means? At the least, we get to report real news for once. You can wait here, with the car. Better if you do, even. Keep trying to