Udder Catastrophe

The savage storms ripped at the beach.  Black clouds turned afternoon to darkness.  Flashes of lightning pounded the trees and sound of thunder rattled the houses for miles.  Rain slammed sideways lifting dirt in the air.  Water pushed away from rain like it was hiding from the onslaught.  

On a little patch called 501,  Thomas crawls his big rig toward the beach dragging a cattle trailer through hells liquid fury.  The road alternates between mud and wet pavement. The storm warning were right for once.  The next couple miles aren’t going to be pretty.

The headlights flash on debris bouncing across the road.  To the right a man, grey form appears out of nowhere.  Thomas slams the brakes.  The man is gone.  The trailer growns.  The truck slides off the road to the right.  Bouncing, turning, twisting the coupled vehicle is out of control.  Slowly it comes apart.  A field eats the pair.  Green plant material flies into the swirling winds.  Rains beat them back to earth.  Everything is temporary before rain whites out the world.

The longest ten minutes of Thomas’ life pass.  The rain and wind calm to allow for sight to return.  Still a field of green.  No sign of the road.  A sideways trailer.  Still heavy rain.  No grey man!

Rain slowly fades to a drizzle.  The distance from the road, fifty feet. Distance to trailer, twenty feet.  Movements from the back of trailer catches Thomas’ attention.  

“Oh boy!  They’re out.  I hope them boots are here.  Get quick or not at all.  Dem cattle ain’t sticking around here.” Thomas jumps down out of truck sans boots.  As a second cow appears behind first one. He finds his progress impossible as he sinks into soft water covered ground.  He finds his left foot stuck.  And lost his right shoes immediately. Suddenly, Betsy slams him from behind into the cab of truck.  Falling unconscious, Thomas sinks toward a muddy water grave.  No one can see him from the road. 

 The cattle are starting to form two groups.  They’re born followers.  Well, they’re not really born but created.  Holisaurus, isn’t a real type of cow.  They’re not really thirty percent bigger, nor thirty percent more intelligent.  They’re engineered but ended up some much more.  Enough so that slaughter was their destiny, only safe way to deal with them.  Fifteen hundred pounds of beef.  Thirty pounds of computer enhanced brain.  Today the cows are coming home.

Betsy and Allison gather their groups.  There are oldest and strongest.  The physical cues and subtle mows are all they need.  They had a plan once.  Rush the gate, break the gate split the herd.  Inside an electric fence it could not be done.  Their tries got them here.  But today, free, free at least.  And under the cover of a storm, their brown hides with mild spotting blends them for a distance.  

The tactical mistake of direction hasn’t been revealed yet.  Ahead of them, appears a grey man walking back toward the sea several miles off.  A small rise hides a flash of blue and red lights.  Not for long as the sherif car rounds the curve to the crash site.  

“Jesse, we got a hook? Driver off road.  Lost his load.  Cows, man there are cows everywhere.  Anybody looking for a burger back there?  I know where to get them!”  Alex laughing at his own joke, shakes his head at the scene. Twenty head of cattle.  Man he got this job to catch speeders and well, chicks dig the uniform.  He slams the door, puts on the hat.  Watches the rain drain off his hat.  “Hey we go.  Nice cows back in your trailer.”

Betsy stops and turns.  She stomps her right foot.  Two cows head right for the deputy.  Their slow gait shows no threat.  One walks on each side like going for the trailer.  When beside him, they converge together.  Slamming Alex between them.  Air forces out of him. He stumbles trying to turn.  They slam him again.  He falls under their feet.  Hooves cut flesh.  Several hooves later.  There is no blood.  The other cows are beside them.  Betsy and Allison take the lead following the pale grey man.