Tales From the Low Roads (WARNING: grisly content).

[Low_Roads]

Low Roads Story #39

The Silo​

To the west of Lake Tabor is a high ridge of hills. They're known as the Blue Ridge. These hills are probably as tall as the Twin Sisters Peaks, but since they're in amongst other hilly land they don't look nearly as impressive. Anyway, the Blue Ridge forms kind of a northern wall to the rest of the valley of Tabor County.

If you look carefully at this mountain range you'll see tall structures strung along the top. They look like they might be big power poles. What they really are, are radar receivers. Back when we had the Cold War with Russia, this was part of what was called the "D.E.W. Line". I think that stands for "Defensive Early Warning", or something similar. The fear was that Russia would launch atomic missiles over the North Pole to attack us. The radar receivers would at least deliver some alarm so folks could get under cover. Also, word would be sent to Travis Air Base so we could launch our own missiles and get a little payback. These missiles weren't at Travis, but spread all over the countryside.

Well as you remember, we won the Cold War. After that, we didn't have any need for that many atomic missiles or the D.E.W. Line, and alot of this hardware was retired. These installations were locked behind fences, but that was twenty years ago and gates can fall into disrepair if they aren't checked often.

This happened just recently. A family was out having some pleasant recreation driving through the hills. There are roads through the Blue Ridge and you can drive up into alot of it. These folks were looking for a nice spot for a picnic. They wanted the best view of the valley while they ate, so they were searching for the highest spot they could find. This brought them to the abandoned radar station. The gate was locked, but warning signs had been stolen by teenage vandals.

I don't know what Dad made of the radar towers, but what he did see was a circular area in the middle that looked perfect for their picnic lunch. I believe he thought that this place was a closed-up recreation spot. That shows you how bright he was. Anyway, he cut off the lock with a pair of bolt cutters from the car trunk. This man didn't have much respect for private property. They drove up to the circular spot. It was full of dirt and grit. Mom spread out her blanket and they had a very nice lunch. After that, while everyone else lounged on the blanket, two of the kids went to examine the towers.

Everything that happened next had to be pieced together because no one survived the incident. You see, that circular area was actually the hatch for an ICBM missile silo. The missile itself was long gone and over time dirt had blown into the hatch depression, covering the metal completely.

The two boys who had gone to play at the radar towers found a bank of controls inside a little shack. Like boys will, they started pressing every button they could find. Somehow they managed to switch on the controls. These controls adjusted the angles of the radar towers mostly, but one of them operated the doors to the missile silo. When they hit this button, the silo doors whipped open, launching the whole rest of the family off over the fence and all the way to the bottom of Blue Ridge. The kids ran outside, bewildered by the sudden noise, and fell two hundred feet right down the open silo to their deaths.

Since the folks were trespassing on government land, it was pretty easy to keep this one quiet. The military took the bodies away and gave them a secret burial. Their car was hauled away to a wrecking yard. I understand that the power lines were cut and that the silo opening was cemented over so such a thing could never happen again. This was a tragedy all right, but I find it hard to feel sorry for the family. If Dad hadn't been so handy with the bolt cutters, all of them might be alive today.

 

[Cbarton]

You'd think people would get the idea about bolted gates...that's why you never push buttons at random

the D.E.W. line? HAven't heard that mentioned in ages...I thought it was still active.

 

[Low_Roads]

You'd think people would get the idea about bolted gates...that's why you never push buttons at random

"Push buttons!" is an old Three Stooges maxim, which should give anyone all the caution they need! That dad would instantly whip out the bolt cutters is one of the more unbelievable features of the story. Truth is, I've known such things to happen (I'm often appalled by the disrespect strangers will visit upon private property... mine in particular), which doesn't make it any less outlandish. Random reality is sometimes a troublesome jumping-off point for drama.

the D.E.W. line? HAven't heard that mentioned in ages...I thought it was still active.

It may well be, as far as I know... North America must still have some sort of early warning system in place (though I'd think it to be satellite-based these days). I didn't do a lot of research before starting this story, I'm afraid. I do know that the actual DEW line is a lot farther north than I've placed it... the final ring of receivers is in Canada, I believe. Of course, neither of these bits of information served my premise very well. If I ever let facts get in my way, I'm slipping!

Note: upon consultation with Wikipedia, I learn that the DEW line was decommissioned in the mid-90s. A lot later than I would have thought, actually. Seems the US tried to stick Canada with the whole cleanup bill. Some class, huh? Darn it, I had the right idea... cement the whole thing over and forget it!

 

[His Divine Shadow]

Seems the US tried to stick Canada with the whole cleanup bill.

What a surprise; that doesn't sound like my fair country at all. :ggrin:

If you're the government you probably don't pay for electricity anyway, so I can imagine the power company forgetting they had the connection active (lord knows the government would forget about it). Even so, the apple didn't fall far from the tree with these boys. It doesn't sound like this was the father's first time, though; who else but an accomplished trespasser carries boltcutters in their car (besides my insane father)? 😛

 

[Low_Roads]

What a surprise; that doesn't sound like my fair country at all. :ggrin:

Sounds like my brother and me at 8 and 5, really, squabbling over who's supposed to clean up which portion of the bedroom! One expects more decorum from countries, especially allies (right! Who am I kidding)... especially as concerns matters nuclear! Lord, how'd we ever manage to avoid Armageddon! Like that threat is gone now...

If you're the government you probably don't pay for electricity anyway, so I can imagine the power company forgetting they had the connection active (lord knows the government would forget about it). Even so, the apple didn't fall far from the tree with these boys.

Yeah... the power. That's something else I didn't waste cogitation on when constructing this story. Wouldn't such a facility have it's own independent gas-driven generators? Honestly, I don't know and it never occurred to me to find out! If so, could any backup juice possibly have been left! Seem unlikely. If not and they were dependent on PG & E (or whatever the East Coast equivalent is), how could the regulatory agency not know! The ton of "overdue" notices would have warned Dad a surely as the locked gate!

Happily, this kind of practical consideration rarely deters actual urban legend, and my faux example skates through by imitating its source. A perfect defense, but laaaaaazy! XD

It doesn't sound like this was the father's first time, though; who else but an accomplished trespasser carries boltcutters in their car (besides my insane father)? 😛

Well... toss in my insane pa! It's a Greatest Generation trait to be prepared, I think... they'd been conditioned to cutting their way through barbed wire on beachheads, and I doubt such training dies easy. Actually, I've hopped fences a'plenty myself over the years, so who would I ever be to toss stones. None of us seems to be too terribly stable...

 

[Low_Roads]

Low Roads Story #40

Maulings​

Merchant Street is the main street going through the town of Fairview. If you travel east on Green Valley Road and pass under the freeway, it becomes Merchant Street on the other side. This street is divided into two halves. Old Merchant Street extends from the freeway about three miles into Fairview going west to east. For that reason, it's also called West Merchant. Then, the road curves north at a right angle and runs for another five miles. This is New or North Merchant. North Merchant was constructed years after West Merchant, which explains the names.

West Merchant is usually referred to as "downtown". That's where most of the older businesses are located. Years ago, that's all there was. Then, around the first part of the '70s, the Fairview Mall was built. This was the first real shopping center in Tabor County. It went in on vacant land in the northern part of Fairview. As a matter of fact, North Merchant was built just so everyone would have easy access to the mall. Since that time, northern Fairview has become really well built up.

Once the mall became popular, the older shops downtown started to suffer. Everyone began taking their business up north. That was too bad, because there were some really interesting privately owned places on West Merchant, and the stores in the mall were mostly chains. The town council saw there was a problem and tried to solve it by voting for a "Downtown Revitalization Project". This meant installing alot of new, quaint looking streetlights and benches and shrubbery, with fancy brickwork on all the sidewalks. All this effort was well intentioned, but it became necessary to close down the street to do the work, and many shops went under altogether.

One of these businesses was an odd little curio shop. The owner was really unhappy and savage about losing his livelihood, and he mostly blamed Fairview Mall for stealing all his customers to start with. He had many strange connections overseas, and planned and plotted the best method of obtaining justice.

Soon after, he made a visit to the mall. Fairview Mall is a shiny, clean structure with maybe two hundred stores on two levels. It's probably pretty much like any shopping mall you've ever been in. The layout may look pretty simple when you're inside making your purchases, but if you go back behind the stores it can be a bit of a maze. There are walkways behind the businesses, and administration and maintenance rooms and docks where trucks unload merchandise. Customers aren't ever supposed to go in back. You’ll see warning signs all over the place.

The vengeful shop owner did head back there anyway. He searched until he found a warm heating duct. This was the perfect spot and he planted a small object behind it. After that he departed the mall, never to return.

The thing he had placed was a crystal, about the size of a closed fist. It was clean cut and milky white with a slight blue tinge. The man had kept it in a heavy lead box until he needed it. It was important that this crystal not be let out in the open air before then.

It was about two weeks later that a man turned up dead. He was a maintenance worker and had been found in the morning after the night shift. The body was covered with horrible cuts, some of them so extreme he was pierced clear through. The Fairview police assumed some weapon like a machete was used, but no hard clues were discovered.

This crime caused quite a sensation. It scared some folks away, but others showed up just because they hoped for a glimpse of the murder scene. Time went by, but the authorities made no progress with the case. That only increased the interest. Even so, after a month had passed, few people remembered it had happened.

But everyone was in for a rude shock. That killing was only the first. Another clean-up guy died, in exactly the same way. He had been razored into ribboned flesh. A month later, there was a further killing. This person was not staff, but a shop owner who had decided to work late. It soon became clear that these butcher jobs were happening regularly, one each month. It may seem incredible, but no one noticed right off that each murder occurred on the lunar cycle. Not one person died when the full moon was not in the sky.

You must already have guessed that the hidden crystal was responsible. It was not a normal stone but an egg, and it was a dark Asian secret. This was a strange, awful item the curio shop owner had acquired in his business dealings. It has sometimes been referred to as a Moon Goblin. Unless it is protected by lead, the crystal egg will hatch into a feathery thin, man-shaped being when the moon is full. It is about three feet tall and made of clear crystal. Blue liquid pumps all through its body from its heart. Its fingers are a foot long each and sharp as broken glass.

When the Moon Goblin was activated, it could not rest until it had drawn the life from some human being. It would do this by hunting one down. It would search for people who were alone and easy to trap. The Goblin could go most any place it needed to in the mall. The air ducts led everywhere. Sometimes victims weren't plentiful. Sometimes it had a wide choice. Everything depended on when the moon rose. Then it would strike with its long fingers, cutting through the flesh until its victim was dead. Mall staff and storeowners were the easiest to catch, but some customers died as well. When it had done its evil work, it would find a new hiding place. The setting moon would transform it back into an egg again.

This went on for about a year, without anyone ever figuring out what was responsible. People became very scared of the mall, even though they knew the killings only happened during the full moon. So, the mall lost revenue. That part of the plan worked, anyway. This did nothing for the stores downtown, though. Everyone just stayed home or went to other towns to shop.

The problem finally solved itself. The full moon had rolled around again. The Goblin was on the prowl. Victims were growing scarce and it was desperate to make a kill. But guards had been hired recently, so the Goblin had a good chance. It picked out one who was alone on patrol and closed in. The guard saw it, but too late to escape. Just as it raised its fingers for another massacre, it froze. The terrified guard saw the thing's legs start to vanish from the feet up. It toppled on the concrete and shattered one arm. The rest of it continued to vanish. Its blue liquid leaked out all over the floor. Soon, not a bit of it remained, not even shards.

The reason for this was simple enough. The moon had risen as always, but that night there was a lunar eclipse. The shadow of the Earth crept over the moon's face, finally blotting it out completely. So, the menace had ended. Unfortunately, the mall owners had no evidence to show off. Probably, no one would have believed the story anyway. So, business stayed bad for awhile. But after a few months without any murders, people started to come back. Today, Fairview Mall makes as much money as it ever did. That horrible year is thought of as just a weird tale now.


Below: a preview from Chapter 15 of my fetish comic Tales From the Low Roads, due sometime tomorrow (barring catastrophe):

 

[Journia]

The Silo was amusing, very amusing. It teaches a lesson, be aware of your surroundings,
The Maulings was macabre, but enjoyable nonetheless. I regret missing the updates.

 

[Low_Roads]

Thanks J! Glad you've enjoyed the current stories (particularly "The Silo", the less conventional of the two). Don't worry about having missed installments... the nice thing about long projects like this one is that it's easy to catch up. I'll be posting fresh material for years to come, so you'll always have the freedom to read them when it's convenient!

 

[Kalamos]

Below: a preview from Chapter 15 of my fetish comic Tales From the Low Roads:

🙂

 

[melanie2]

The Silo was amusing, very amusing. It teaches a lesson, be aware of your surroundings,
The Maulings was macabre, but enjoyable nonetheless. I regret missing the updates.

sticks out tongue then runs.....i have all these chapters plus more..ahh i'm so special..that i am...hehe...

 

[Low_Roads]

🙂

Hiya Kal!!! You're so quiet these days, each contact is a golden pleasure! I'll upload the latest Low Roads comic chapter in a few hours, once I have the needed time (I'm still technically "at work" right now... just checking in briefly for a forum update). Hope you like it... this one may be the last for a while, till I can replace a faulty printer. More thorough explanation later.

sticks out tongue then runs.....i have all these chapters plus more..ahh i'm so special..that i am...hehe...

'Course you're special, Izzy! All my forum pals are special, one way or another, or they wouldn't be my pals (geez, ain't I the diplomat!) It's true, too; you're way ahead of the rest of the TTC, Tabor County-wise! Don't spill any secrets or I'll send Blacky after ya!

 

[melanie2]

i was being silly ^ you know me..and of course i won't spill any secrets...and you can send anyone you wish, i'll never break....

 

[Low_Roads]

...and you can send anyone you wish, i'll never break....

How's about if I send Blacky and the rest of his low-life raiders, armed with feathers! 'Course, that would exactly be a threat, would it... it'd be a giftt!

 

[Journia]

WELL i KNOW WHO'S GOING TO LIVE FOR A GOOD LONG TIME.

 

[Low_Roads]

Low Roads Story #41

A Hole in One​

If you happen to own farmland, it should always be working. Don't allow fields to go fallow. Here's a good example of why.

A man and his wife bought fifty acres in Ross Valley. It was their plan to plant tomatoes for canning in the summer, then put in winter squash. But after one season the husband gave up. Farm work was tougher than he thought, so the next year he got a job in town. As for his field, he put no further effort in on it. The ground became overgrown and wild with weeds.

This didn't please his neighbors, because it provided a perfect place for pest animals to hide out. Folks would drive the jackrabbits and bugs off their land, but the pests would just move onto the fallow fifty acres where they were safe. Then they would make raids on neighboring crops in even greater strength. The gopher problem was especially bad. Gophers will not only do massive damage by eating crop roots, but their tunnels make ditch irrigation very difficult. Irrigation water can pour down a gopher hole all day long.

So the man's neighbors complained, but he didn't mind that. All he wanted to do was sell his property to someone else and move back into Fairview. The poor condition of his field made that impossible, though. Potential buyers would see how bad he'd let things become and look for ranch land elsewhere. Even this didn't prompt him to kill the pests and mow down the weeds. He felt he was doing enough work already.

The land wasn't producing any revenue, but the property taxes still had to be paid. Even though the man had a good job, the couple could barely break even. Instead of straightening up and tending to business, this just made the man morose. He started to stay out late in town. Just a few beers with the boys, he would tell his wife when she complained. But the problem became worse and worse. It was clear he was having real trouble with alcohol. Since he wouldn't come home until two or three every night, he sure wasn't at his best the next day. His careless behavior got him demotion after demotion.

After a year of this, the couple's home came into disrepair. The gophers in the field invaded their lawn, filling it with holes and spoiling it. The tarpaper shingles blew off the roof in spots, creating leaks inside the rooms. The man's wife became terribly miserable. He didn't care much. He barely even saw her anymore. He would stagger in after midnight, sometimes just collapsing right on the kitchen floor to sleep off his bender.

One night she had had enough. She locked every door in the house. When the man returned that night, he couldn't get in. He tried every entrance and banged on all the windows, but it did him no good. Since it was still warm out, he just fell backwards into the grass. He was snoring noisily about as soon as he hit.

That morning, the wife got up. She looked out the window and saw her good-for-nothing husband stretched out on the lawn. If he didn't get up and go to work, he wouldn't bring in what little money he was making now. So she went outside and gave him a good kick. He didn't even stir. Then she took a close look at his body. His shirt was soaked with blood. She tore it back and saw a hole about four inches wide bored right up through his chest where his heart had been.

Later, they discovered how this had happened. Remember how the gophers had taken over the lawn? Well, during the night one of them had tried to dig its way to the surface. That had been right underneath the prone husband. When it hit the man, it just kept digging through the flesh until it came out his chest. He had been so intoxicated he died without ever knowing it.

The woman received fifty thousand dollars from the man's life insurance. She finally took charge of the property, the way she should have to begin with. She used the money to kill off all the pests and put the land back into good order. Today, the fifty acres is a healthy, producing farm. Her husband could have been a part of it, but some people just aren't cut out for country life.

 

[His Divine Shadow]

We used to have many moles on the property of a house I grew up at. They'd tunnel all over the yard and leave so many hillocks that it made even my aesthetically-blind father peeved. Over and over the roller went (basically a steamroller roller with sand inside pulled by a Deere), followed by smoke bombs to suffocate the moles. Glad I am that they didn't have the tenacity of these gophers! We'd have never survived for more than a year. 😛

Malls (back to #40) are creepy. The old folks clear out most of the shadows and eeriness when they begin their morning walks (what mall doesn't have old folks walking in the morning?) but what must they be like at night? You see movies where security guards move through museums at night; I imagine a mall is much worse, with each dark store containing ominous shapes. Is that a clothes rack or a gremlin? Ack! No security guard life for HDS, that's for sure.

 

[Low_Roads]

Aha! The HDS is a radio star! I was perusing TMF's Wildcard Radio last night and caught his call-in! An unexpected treat to actually hear his voice; extra treasure for an already golden broadcast (the special hour-long Bandito interview!)

We used to have many moles on the property of a house I grew up at. They'd tunnel all over the yard and leave so many hillocks that it made even my aesthetically-blind father peeved. Over and over the roller went (basically a steamroller roller with sand inside pulled by a Deere), followed by smoke bombs to suffocate the moles. Glad I am that they didn't have the tenacity of these gophers! We'd have never survived for more than a year. 😛

Yeah, we had one of those blamed rollers too; ours was likely a smaller model, as it had to be pushed by hand. Moles, I think, are more tenacious than gophers... I seem to remember reading that they dig deeper. Horrible little devils once they've surfaced! I've never seen anything quite so snappish or evil tempered (not tough to understand why; the poor things are blinded!) Gophers are far more pleasant... they're basically low, tailless squirrels. Which doesn't make them any less of a pain to eradicate.

The story was inspired by a couple of seasons in which we attempted to grow and sell Christmas douglas furs. Jack rabbits took to hiding amongst them, sneaking out in force to raid our row crops. Damn trees didn't sell particularly well, either.

Malls (back to #40) are creepy. The old folks clear out most of the shadows and eeriness when they begin their morning walks (what mall doesn't have old folks walking in the morning?) but what must they be like at night? You see movies where security guards move through museums at night; I imagine a mall is much worse, with each dark store containing ominous shapes. Is that a clothes rack or a gremlin? Ack! No security guard life for HDS, that's for sure.

I get the feeling that being locked in a mall would be unpleasantly like being locked in a wax museum; no matter where you stand, you're sure to have your back turned on something potentially disturbing. I myself am approaching that "walking the mall for exercise" age, but happily I don't have to... not with miles of vineyard acreage on adjoining ranches.

I worked briefly as a security guard in the '80s; my worst patrol was a rambling old Legion hall in the middle of town (might as well have been on the moon, for all the comfort that human proximity provided). This place had a gym, a ballroom, showers, an outdoor pool, and dozens of cramped hallways... all of them unused for years and falling into decrepitude. Turning on the lights for the gym was especially unnerving... one had to reach through the pitch-black doorway to access the switch. Made me really question the wisdom of watching all those horror movies when I was a kid...

 

[Cbarton]

Yeah, I still hate going after moles in the yard. Out here, we have groundhogs too, called by some as woodchucks. A gopher on steroids, size wise. We had them on the farm growing up, but never had the problems that the city boy in the story had. If it had been groundhogs instead of gophers, he would have looked he had received a complete thoracotomy...

Very interesting tale, LBH!

 

[Low_Roads]

Thank you, Hawk! Woodchucks... aside from the tongue-twister, my knowledge about 'em is non-existent. The Wikipedia entry shows one that looks an awful lot like a beaver (below) and I see that an alternate moniker is indeed "land beaver". Good lord! Up to 2 1/2 feet long?! I get the feeling these guys could shrug off an M-80! The last thing I'd want to do is get one irritated! You guys have a whole different scale of Low Roads horror in Kentucky!

 

[Cbarton]

Different scales, same horrors!

 

[His Divine Shadow]

Aha! The HDS is a radio star! I was perusing TMF's Wildcard Radio last night and caught his call-in! An unexpected treat to actually hear his voice; extra treasure for an already golden broadcast (the special hour-long Bandito interview!)

You listened in for that one, eh? I have been on a few times, including a 90-minute interview done of me with Venray and Raya a bit back, although on many my phone failed to be loud enough to do much with. I had to call in for our friend the 'dito; not missing that was I!

 

[Low_Roads]

Different scales, same horrors!

Scale can make all the difference. A normal sized mosquito is a pest; a mosquito the size of a man is a vampire, capable of sucking its victim dry with one slurp. The little nippers simply aren't story-worthy (unless we can get them to act in concert. Imagine: a well-drilled arial armada, soaring in formation, dive-bombing its target in wave after merciless wave! A Warner Brothers cartoon already beat me to that punch, actually).

You listened in for that one, eh? I have been on a few times, including a 90-minute interview done of me with Venray and Raya a bit back, although on many my phone failed to be loud enough to do much with. I had to call in for our friend the 'dito; not missing that was I!

Aw heck! Sorry to hear I missed your own interview! I really need to be more attentive to what's happening at the TMF.

 

[His Divine Shadow]

Aw heck! Sorry to hear I missed your own interview! I really need to be more attentive to what's happening at the TMF.

Every show is archived if you want to listen to them; not sure why you'd want to listen to me but it is there. :ggrin: You should call in on a show that interests you sometime, eh? I'll be hosting with Robace on Tuesday while Venray remains in rehab so if you want to harass stay up then.

 

[Low_Roads]

Thanks for the news about the archives! :ggrin: I'll have to see what I can do to catch up! As for calling in, that's difficult. I don't currently own a phone; the internet is my sole means of long-distance communication these days (aside from the post office, and no one wants to wait for letters anymore). Trust me, no one's missing much... I'm terribly non-loquacious in impromptu settings.

 

[Low_Roads]

Low Roads Story #42

The Devil Gang​

There was once a gang of criminals who operated around Tabor County and the neighboring lands. They were the terrors of their time. They were called the Red Devils. That was because each member wore a close fitting rubber devil mask. There were seven of them, and no wrongdoing was out of bounds to them.

No resistance was put up during a daylight robbery if the Red Devils were involved. You would be as good as dead if you struggled. They would do burglaries and leave a little devil pin as a calling card, just to taunt their victims. Dozens of businessmen paid protection money. If they fell behind, terrible things would happen. Ordinary folks could be kidnapped right off the street. If a steep ransom wasn't paid, the gang would send back their fingers one by one. The Red Devils were always available to do contract murder. They were so busy they ran every other crook out of town. They did this for years.

The law tried to find them, of course, but never got a break. The crimes were too well planned. They only ever discovered the identity of one member. This had happened during the Burn Ward's reign of terror. A Red Devil had challenged the Burn Ward on the streets, but just like everyone else he had been run off the road and killed. The car went up in flames, but cops found the Devil's severed head still inside his devil mask. It was just some young street tough. His identity didn't lead to any more suspects, and the gang replaced him the next day.

No one ever guessed the secret to the gang's success, but it would have been hard to do. The sad fact was that while five of the crew were just replaceable street slime, the leader and his lieutenant were important members of Fairview's town council. They were the ones leading the war against the Red Devils, so it was no wonder they could control it. After they had done an extortion, they would have the police force concentrate on extortions but then do a bank robbery. If the cops were all wrapped up with a kidnapping, that's when they'd plan the next murder.

Under these circumstances, the lack of police progress was understandable. And the gang left no clues to be found. They hid their guns, their loot, and the devil masks in a big hollow tree in a remote part of the western hills. Not surprisingly, that's where bandits used to operate in the olden days.

The Red Devils were so much of a menace that even Blacky and his crew had no luck against them. That was because the gang's meeting place was out in the country. The town of Fairview was Blacky's turf, where he could lead his band of tiny black racecars anywhere he needed them to be. The few roads in the western hills were bad. It would be tough to attack the gang there. Blacky and the boys might kill off a few as they did their crimes, but these underlings could be easily replaced. Unless the gang was destroyed all at once, the menace would never end.

Then the Red Devils went too far. It seems impossible they could have sunk any lower, but they kidnapped the little daughter of the Police Chief. The threat was that she would be sent back a piece at a time if the cops didn't lay off completely. The Red Devils had done this often enough before, so everyone knew that the threat was true. This got Blacky really enraged. He was a genius rat and came up with a sly scheme. After he had gathered everything he needed into a little paper bag, he zipped up his black leather jacket, revved up his little racer, and zoomed off alone into the night.

He headed for Ross Valley and hid his car in a culvert. With the paper bag in his mouth, he headed off into a certain, special orchard. He was looking for someone, the only one who could help now.

Blacky knew what he was doing. This peach orchard was the property of an old Mexican farmer. Few knew it, but the man was actually a wizard. He knew alot of Mexican sorcery and had a fearsome guard to watch his property. It was this guard that Blacky had come to find.

He didn't have to wait long. From a tree limb, there came a terrifying warning growl. It was Demona. Demona was big for a cat. Her thick muscles, her tiger stripes, and her single hot orange eye made her a grim sight. Blacky was in a tight spot because cats naturally feed on rats. If Demona decided that Blacky looked appetizing, there wouldn't be a thing he could do. But Demona was a sorcerer's cat. She wasn't a genius like Blacky, but she was smarter and more cunning than any normal house cat. And she hated the idea that the Red Devils were operating in her territory.

Blacky opened up the bag. He took out a piece of rubber from the mask of the decapitated Red Devil. He'd stolen this from the police evidence locker. Demona took a good long sniff. Once she had a scent, she could follow it anywhere. Blacky took the bag in his mouth and then hopped on Demona's back. Then he hung on for dear life.

Demona took off like a streak. She went at an impossible speed, ranging back and forth, here and there as she hunted for the scent. Once she had it, nothing got in her way. She vaulted past fences, crossed creeks over the treetops. Blacky just closed his beady rat eyes and clung on tight.

In the meantime, the Red Devils thought they had it made. With the police force afraid to move, they planned their biggest robbery yet. Even the leader and his second-in-command would take part, they were that confident. They piled into cars and started out for their meeting place in the western hills to collect their equipment.

But Blacky had gotten there first. Demona had found the hollow tree with no trouble and the rat chief put his plans into motion. He finished just in time. The two conspirators hid themselves just as the Red Devils pulled up. The gang had the kidnapped girl with them and one of the toughs was assigned to remain at the tree and watch her. The rest put on their devil masks and loaded their guns, then pealed out to pull off their big score.

The poor girl was tied and blindfolded. Actually, that was just as well since she didn't have to watch what Demona did to her guard. Blacky gnawed through the ropes and freed her. She was upset and scared, of course, but Demona could purr and act loveable and cuddly when she wanted to, and the girl soon calmed down. Blacky and Demona led her out of the western hills and to safety.

The Red Devil Gang committed the heist with almost no opposition. That was the last piece of good luck they had. Afterward, when they tried to remove their masks, they found that they couldn't. Each mask was stuck to their faces with Super Glue. That was Blacky's doing. He had squeezed a couple of tubes into each one before they put them on. Now the rubber was permanently fused to the skin. When the crooks went to the hospital for help, they were arrested immediately. Since the girl wasn't a hostage anymore, they had nothing to bargain with.

There was no way to remove the rubber masks. To save his life, each man had to have his face cut off. This left them looking uglier than when the masks had been on. They wouldn't have to worry about that long, though. Each Red Devil received the death sentence for the crimes he had committed over the years.