text: “Go north.” The old man looked across the street that was littered with snakes chewing up the blacktop. “You’re a lot of help.” Johnny replied. “I try to be.” He looked back at Johnny. “There’s nothing left here.” “What are you going to do?” The old man was dressed in a white suit, and when he turned back to the hissing of the street, Johnny noticed that even in 100 degree weather, there were no sweat marks. Johnny only saw the nicotine shades of years of smoking. “These snakes will run out of blacktop. Then, it’s just me and the desert.” “What’s north?” “Not here. That’s where north is. Not here. I’m an old man. And maybe we’re the last people for miles alive, but that doesn’t make us partners. Or buddies. I’d just like to stay here and watch the end.” And with that, the old man lit a cigarette and eased back into the rocking chair he was sitting in. Johnny looked down at his feet, then back at the road. You had to keep your distance. Some of the snakes had a real reach and you could easily get picked off if you didn’t pay attention. You avoided the road. There were a list of things the snakes lived off that you wanted to avoid. Most oils. Tar. Strangely, liquor. Cars were out of the question, unless they were armored. Scores of people had tried taking the family out with all the windows rolled up and the doors locked and ended up with the bastards coming up through the engine. Ugly situations. The parents in the front seat being butchered by foot long fangs, while the car comes to a stop and the kids look dumbfounded at each other as the snakes cocoon the car... “You know, I knew it. I knew it when they brought it up.” The old man tossed a bottle of Jack Daniels into the street and watched the rolling wave absorb it. “They say things. These scientists. They say, we know this. We know that. But they never have common sense. You pull something up from the bottom of the ocean and you examine it. That’s fine. But then you start mucking around with mother nature and” he tossed another bottle “you get this.” “Provisions?” “Is this 1894? You mean food and water - over there, across the street.” The old man let out a single laugh, then went back to rocking. Johnny eyed the store across the street and looked down the road. “You ain’t gonna get a dead end for miles. You might as well be walking to North Dakota.” “You got food and booze...and cigarettes.” “I have ways. Kinda like the snakes. If they wait long enough, someone will feed them out of desperation.” “What about these houses?” “Full of snakes. You have to find a way across that road, boy.” Johnny eyed the street and noticed the traffic lights. “Ah, smart thinking. But if you drop...” The old man belted out another laugh and Johnny strode towards the lights. He took a running start at the poll, as it was close enough to the street that he could get bit. He jumped. Hooking both arms around the poll he began to squat up. The old man threw a whiskey bottle at Johnny, hitting him in the face and Johnny dropped to the desert below. The snakes swarmed him as the old man walked quickly across the street to the store. “I told you to go North!” It's up. Nope. Got flagged. Here it is. The old man wondered up the liquor aisle and grabbed a bottle of absinthe and walked back down towards the registers. He laughed out loud and then yelled “Scientists!” Then he stopped. Two feet away, hanging from the fluorescents was a snake. It opened its jaws to reveal a mouth the size of a tire. “Hang on, old buddy.” The old man stepped backward and the snake hissed. “When they brought it up, it had all the shape and size of a meteor: just a big black rock that had been pummeled almost to death for eons. Then they pried further and found the organisms. They were smaller than a booger on a mouse. Well, these folks in these labs congratulated themselves and the world celebrated aliens. Aliens! Folks don’t even know their neighbors that well and they get all excited about mouse turds from outer space. Well, I don’t get it.” The old man paused and scratched at the wound in his face. “Feller over at the store there bit me just now. See that skeleton yonder, that was a boy I was helping across the street. Snakes got him. Got a taste for it. Next thing you know, the snakes are in the store. Well, boy howdy, I’ll tell you what - those scientists sure fucked us good.” The old man began to cry. “Look see, old boy, I know you can hear me and I know you know I been feeding you boys with the choicest cuts of human. Now, why don’t you just back up and give me some space. Get you a nice bottle of Daniels.” The old man stepped slowly back to the whiskey aisle and grabbed a bottle. The absinthe dropped and the snake hissed and took a swatch of skin off the old man’s cheek. “Har! Fuck!” The old man slammed the bottle of Jack against the floor and the snake hit the ground hissing and lapping up the intoxicant. Four more snakes dropped from the ceiling and the old man looked up. “Jesus wept.” The ceiling was covered in snakes. One snake seemed to be king over them all. It was coiled around the entire store and six of the smaller snakes were curled up in its jaws. The old man grabbed another bottle of absinthe and clipped a carton of cigarettes on his gallop out. Knees in the air in a full-on Looney Toon sprint, the old man vacated the store and paused to catch his breath when the woman asked him which direction to go. “Go north.” “Do you know what happened? What happened everywhere?” “When they brought it up...” The old man stared up at the sun, tears streaming down his cheeks. “That’s how. They played with those aliens...got in their DNA. You know - the stuff that makes you a lovely lady and me an old man.” The woman laughed. “You’re not that old.” “I wasn’t once. See, all you folks end up a mile out. Stop the car, walk into town. Tourists! You think this is interesting or something. It’s terrifying.” “Why don’t you leave?” “Why would you drive into a quarantine zone? This all happened months ago. I know you all think it’s just some virus. But it’s not. Lab’s a couple miles up. That’s where it all began. But I guess you thought you’d take a look. Last guy had a camera. Pretty sure he was a reporter. What are you? CIA?” “I’m looking for my mother.” “Let me help you - she’s dead. Go North.” The old man pulled out a cigarette and fell to the ground on his butt and began to cry harder. “I’m stuck on this side now. I’m stuck forever without my wife.” “Is your wife dead?” The old man grinned at the ground and murmured “Yes.” The woman looked across the road. “Give me your jacket and that bottle of absinthe.” The old man handed her both. She doused the jacket in absinthe, and then pushed a bit of it into the bottle and lit it. Then she hurled the bottle into the street. The snakes rushed away from the fire and she grabbed his hand and said “Let’s go.” The old man took her hand and walked with her across the street. As they passed within feet of the snakes the old man fell to the ground. The woman knelt to help the old man and he came at her with a knife. “Fresh bait!” He yelled, eyes popping out, drool running down his face. The woman paused and then drew a pistol from her lower back and shot the man twice in the throat. There was a ringing and the woman pulled a phone from her pocket and replied into it “Agent Edwards.” She walked to the other side of the street, speaking into the phone and watching the snakes recede back to what would soon be a bloody skeleton. “Our leak has dried up. Bad intel, though. Also, I think there’s a queen here in the store.” “Here comes the Hocus Pocus.” The Speaker said. They were in an old colonial-looking house off a road somewhere in California. It was daylight outside and motes of dust hung in the air and passed between each agent as they breathed. Some were sitting on couches, others on chairs. One man had his legs dangling from a counter in the kitchen. “You are on a Green Card assignment. Present Green Cards.” The group of agents each took out a Joker card from their pockets and presented it. The cards were green with a red, and a laughing joker presented in the middle of the card. The speaker, no one had any idea what rank or what agency, pulled out a small flashlight-looking device and swung it around the room, reading each card. “Alright. DCI has acknowledged me and my permission to give orders as you will find, or did find, on the cards. This is a Hocus Pocus. If you are not familiar with that situational status, I will explain it. A Hocus Pocus is a situation that has no logical or scientific explanation as we understand it. For instance, if aliens landed, it would be deemed Hocus Pocus. Scientifically speaking, it is possible. Logically, aliens - intelligent aliens, should not be able to land here as physics and our own known knowledge of our own solar neighborhood would contradict it. Similarly, a ghost would be a Hocus Pocus. Hyper-intelligent apes. Houses made out of fish. You get the idea. This however, this situation, deals with the occult. If you are not familiar with the occult, you should not be on this team. You have been selected as your backgrounds reflect a knowledge of ancient wisdom, Aleister Crowley, and Tarot cards. Basically, you people are geeks.” There was a brief spatter of laughter that wasn’t returned by the Speaker. “My name is Ed. You can call me Ed if you need to address me. You do not want my full name. You do not want any information about me whatsoever. You are to perform specific tasks. You are not to delve into the information you gather any further than your assignment carries you. You are not to connect the dots. You are not to put the puzzle together. You are the puzzle. Each of you is a piece and let no piece meet. There will be no sharing of intel outside of the briefings you will receive via Green Cards. Now, the situation. About six months ago, seemingly out of nowhere, a snake handler by the name of Cabal Brooks appeared in the desert of Nevada. This man then approached the city of Boulder, Nevada and all hell broke loose. The first reports of problems came from a police deputy who was called to the home of Brooks on rumors he was amassing a large stock of illegal weapons. This visit then turned into a shootout. The shootout then turned into a standoff. I’m sure you all saw it on the news. Brooks was never located, but soon reports came in that a cult had formed around the memory of the man, who left a bullet riddled home and two dead officers. If you look at your Green Card, you will see a picture of the man. He looks like Colonel Sanders. Always wearing a white suit. Friendly guy. The FBI sent two agents to infiltrate the group and they were converted. There was a raid. No one returned. That was not in the news. Then there was no contact from the entire town. Next, the snakes began to appear. We headed this one off at the pass, and quarantined most of Nevada under the guise of a super flu. And now we’re here. About the snakes - we do not know where they came from or what they are. Obviously, snakes the size of trains are not known or logical scientific facts of our great Earth. However, we are in possession of an escapee of Mr. Brooks’ cult. And, yes, we believe, based on this individual’s account, that Brooks is still alive. This individual claims that these snakes are a simple charm of a legion of...things...that will befall our great Earth. It is this individual’s account that Mr. Brooks is summoning...wait for it kids...Satan.” The group exchanged incredulous looks. “Boys and girls, we take this seriously. The CIA is not in the religion business. Nor are we naïve. No folks, we have project after project of information concerning the summoning or the belief to reality of certain entities we can just call deities. I’m sure you are all fully aware of a Project Babylon back in the last century and let me just drop this nugget - it worked. I will not disclose to what extent, but rest assured your reality has been tweaked since. Tweaked is a nice way of putting it. But that’s internet conspiracy stuff, right? Maybe so, but right now I can safely and sanely tell you all that we believe that a force, a hostile force, is being created and threatens the United States. If that makes it a better way of saying it, so be it. But make no mistake: we believe this Mr. Brooks is provoking something illogical and destructive and thus the Green Cards. That’s it? Any questions? Just joking. Your Green Cards will alert you to your orders. The only information I will reveal about any assignments to all of you is that Agent Edwards will be taking point. As for the snakes, you are to keep your distance. This mission is for intel, not for house cleaning. Have a nice day.” “Repeat. There is a Queen in the store. Also, I may have killed Colonel Sanders.” It sounded foolish and she laughed to herself. Turning around, she looked at the body. The snakes were avoiding it and the Colonel, or possibly the Colonel, was gasping for breath out of the two new breathing holes she had given him. The sight was putrid. It was as if someone had stuck a piece of bubble gum in a trach hole and set the person breathing through it. Just blood bubbling up and popping. She turned around and the ground shook. In the space of a second, she had found cover behind a garbage can and was scanning the area. The snakes had completely left the patch of road where the presumed Colonel lay. An Open sign was swinging in the doorway of the store and the kid’s skeleton was still lying below the traffic lights. The ground shook again, but this time all but one window in the store shattered.