"You can't very well send the patrol cars down the canal banks again," Jensen added. "They'd be sitting ducks."

"Right," Baskel agreed. "There'll be none of that."

After a few moments, Lawless said, "It's a pretty good plan, better than anything I could've come up with. You think all this up?"

"No. Bozeman was a big help."

Baskel finished by telling them the meeting with the officers would start in twenty minutes and would they please sit up front with him. They reluctantly agreed and Baskel left to make arrangements for the lights.

"Alright, everybody. Listen up."

Baskel stood at the front of a large meeting room full of policemen, uniformed and plainclothes, male and female. Behind him sat Captain Bozeman, Lawless, Jensen, Sheriff Wisehart, and Officer Howard. Howard had a small bandage on his arm and wore a clean starched uniform. He shifted in his seat, embarrassed to be sitting behind the podium instead of out in the audience with his pals.

Normally there would be talking and laughing and joking, and Baskel would have to yell several times to get everyone to shut up. Today was different. A cop had been killed last night and two more had almost lost their lives; this group was pissed off.

Baskel cleared his throat.

Many cops were looking past Baskel at Lawless. They'd all heard rumors about the "psychic detective" from the Sheriff's Department, and although some of them had seen him before at Elk Park, they looked at him with new eyes now. He looked ordinary, most thought. The deputy was a looker, though, the men thought, wondering how they had missed her before.

Jensen blushed and stared at the back of Baskel's head. She had yet to learn how to filter out unwanted thoughts.

"Most of you know what's going on, but we want to make sure everyone's on the same page," Baskel began. "Seven people were killed last night, one of them Officer Billy Paloosa. In case you haven't heard, his partner, Officer Vijay Williamson, was found an hour or so ago. He's physically okay but he's in shock and not saying much. He'll be kept under observation until he's able to return to duty, hopefully soon. Thank God he's alive.

"We have reason to believe that the same ... creature ... responsible for last nights carnage is also responsible for four, maybe five other deaths in the county. I'm sure you've heard about Officers Howard's and Stoveson's run-in with the ... creature ... last night. We're going to give him a couple of minutes to give you a brief report."

Baskel sat and Howard stood, looking miserable, sweating profusely.

The audience stood in unison and applauded the man who'd saved his partner and stood down the monster.

His face turned five shades of red and he looked like he was going to pass out. He raised his hands to stop the applause and said, "Thank you, but it's really unnecessary. I didn't do anything any one of you wouldn't have done."

Lawless heard many in the audience say Bullshit in their heads, and knew they were right. Plenty would've ran away in terror after the first shotgun blast bounced back in their face, and left their partners to fend for themselves.

Howard recounted the events of he and Stoveson's battle with the monster. Although the audience had heard the story several times, they were still impressed, and shocked. They gave him another standing ovation when he took his chair.

Baskel returned to the podium. "Thank you for your report, Officer Howard. You're a fine example of the Modesto Police Department. May we all be the kind of partner you were to Officer Stoveson.

"I hope I don't have to tell anyone here how dangerous this thing is. We don't know what will kill it but we're damned sure going to find out. For now, you have to assume your weapons will be ineffective at stopping it, or even slowing it down. We think it lives in the canals and uses them to get around and hunt from. There's some evidence it can move on land as well, but we don't think it can stay out of the water for long.

"Job number one is keeping people away from the canals. There aren't enough of us to do that so we're enlisting the help of the community volunteers and police cadets."

A few snickers could be heard.

"Unless, of course, some of you would rather do the jobs we have planned for them."

The room went quiet.

"That's what I thought. We hope to post a pair at the entrance of each canal, far enough away from the water to be out of harms way, but close enough to keep people away. They'll be stringing crime tape across the canal roads and setting up battery-powered lights. The reason for the lights is, we believe light repels it. We don't know why but it's one of the few things we're pretty sure about. It's only killed once in broad daylight, and then it struck quickly and was probably back in the water in seconds.

"So, while we're probably safe until dusk, all hell could break loose after the sun goes down. Make sure you have fresh batteries in your flashlights and if you're on patrol tonight, make sure your spotlight is on any time you're near a canal. Captain Bozeman will now take a few minutes."

Bozeman stood and launched into a prepared speech about the brave officers under his charge and how proud he was of everyone, and blah and yack. Cops yawned, picked at their fingernails, checked their phones.

Then, "We plan on draining the canals for a couple of days. That should give us enough time to find and kill it. We'll join forces with the Sheriff's Department" - he turned and nodded at Sheriff Wisehart, who nodded back and made a face like stone, a talent of his largely responsible for his being elected time and time again - "and organize search parties. You'll all be receiving assignments for the search. Any questions so far?"

Thirty hands shot up, and Bozeman knew he'd made a mistake. He pointed at someone in the second row.

"When's this search going to take place?"

"Most likely Monday or Tuesday. Maybe later. I've run into a great deal of resistance from MID about draining the canals."

"Just tell them to drain the damn things," someone said.

"It's not that easy. For one thing, we're trying to keep the lid on this story as long as possible. I'm sure you saw the Bee this morning, so has everyone else, and the story's all over the radio. The public knows people are being killed by the canals but they don't know how. We'd like to keep it that way so we can avoid mass hysteria.

"The other thing is, it's the middle of irrigation season and MID says it can't drain the canals because the farmers could lose their crops, and crops are a multi-billion dollar business in the Valley. I say that's a crock. They can and will drain the canals, but it may take two or three days to get it done."

("Two or three days? Think of what the creature could do in two or three days.") Lawless nodded.

Bozeman pointed at someone else.

"After the canals are drained, how we gonna go about looking for this thing? Can we expect to find it floppin' around like a fish, waiting to be blown up or shot?"

"Probably not."

"Then how are we gonna flush it out?"

"We're still working on that."

This didn't sit well with the group; much frowning and grumbling ensued.

Bozeman pointed at someone again.

"Why don't we bring in the state or feds? They've got big guns and lots of men. Why can't they help with the search?"

"This is our city and these are our people getting killed. We'd like to try to handle this ourselves first. We'll call in the Guard if we can't stop it by draining the canals."

The hole the captain had dug for himself got deeper with each question. He began sweating like Howard.

Lawless and Jensen knew from listening in on their thoughts that no one wanted to be on the search committee; it sounded a lot like a suicide mission.

Baskel tapped Lawless on the shoulder and whispered, "You got anything you want to add?"

"Here?"

"Yeah, here. Where else would I be talking about?"

"Think I should?"

"Yeah. I think everyone's curious about you. You might want to show them you're a ... sort of a normal guy."

Lawless made a face.

Baskel shrugged.

("What are you going to say?") ("That they'd all better stop thinking lewd thoughts about you or I'm going to start throwing punches.") She elbowed him in the ribs and smiled.

Bozeman finally had the sense to stop taking questions and took his seat, taking more time than he was supposed to and straying far from the topic at hand: tonight.

Baskel got up. "Thank you Captain Bozeman. We've asked Detective Daniel Lawless from the Sheriff's Department to speak for a minute. Detective Lawless probably knows more about the creature than anyone else, which, unfortunately for us all, is still very little. Detective Lawless."

If the room was quite before, it was like a tomb now.

Lawless said, "I'm sure you've all heard rumors about what happened last night and think I'm some kind of crackpot."

He and Jensen heard a lot of affirmative thoughts coming from the audience.

"My sanity will have to be debated some other time. We have serious business to attend to today and I'm going to be straight with you, because I think you deserve it. You all risk your lives to some degree every day, but you've never been asked to put your life on the line like you are now. You deserve to know everything I know."

The thoughts died down and cell phones disappeared into pockets.

"The first thing you need to know is, this thing will kill you if you give it half a chance. Officer Howard can count himself and his partner two of the luckiest people on earth."

He jabbed a finger at the audience.

"Any time you go near the canals you are in danger of being killed and there's nothing you can do to protect yourself. It's lightening quick: one moment you're thinking about lunch and the next you are lunch. It will get you as you sit in your patrol car and it will chase you down if you run. But it can only get you if you're near a canal, so don't go near one unless ordered to do so, and, for God's sake, keep your families the hell away from them. In fact, tonight might be a good time for them to pay grandma a visit.

"The only other thing I can tell you about the creature is it has an insatiable hunger. It will never stop killing until we make it stop. It won't eat animals because it doesn't like the way they taste. They're too gamey."

There was a pause, then the audience burst into laughter. A lot of tension was released before they quieted down.

"Now, about me. I have what are best described as visions where I see out of the eyes of people the creature is about to kill, or someone that's with the person that's about to be killed. I try to figure out where the attack is going to take place, hopefully before it happens so we can get people there to help or shout out a warning. Unfortunately, I've failed to save anyone..."

("Except for Officers Howard and Stoveson. And don't look so sad; you've done your best.") "... except Officers Howard and Stoveson. I'm told the warning came in time for Officer Howard to pull Officer Stoveson out of the vehicle before the creature could kill her."

He stopped and looked down at the podium, thinking about how to continue.

"I don't know why I see the things I do, but there it is. Let's use it like any other tool."

He paused again, thinking.

("Should I tell them I've seen through the monster's eyes?") ("Don't see why you should. You've confirmed what they heard, so shut up and sit your butt down.") "I don't know what will happen in the future, whether I'll have any more of these visions or not, but I'll be in constant contact with Detective Baskel the entire night. May God be with us and may this nightmare end tonight."

He sat and no one said a thing. Even their brains were silent.

Baskel stood and ended the meeting, reminding everyone to pick up their assignments for the night. The sheriff felt left out of the loop and blamed Lawless. He was angry and intended on giving Lawless a piece of his mind, but Lawless read his thoughts and he and Jensen hustled out ahead of him. Baskel stayed for the meeting with the geezers and geeks.

Lawless and Jensen slipped out the back, avoiding the press, who were restricted to the main entrance in front. They pulled out of the parking lot at two-thirty.

The creature was agitated, for in searching her data banks, the collective memory of her ancestors, she had found references to probing entities. That meant her kind had encountered them before, but there were no data on how to respond.

She concluded her kind must have discovered that the entities were not a threat, thus adaptation and defense against them was unnecessary.

She did not, could not, consider the possibility that her ancestors had not furnished a solution to the probing entities because there was no solution, that the victims of the probing entities could not notify others of the danger because they had all been killed.

Her genetic programming told her that her species died only by living out their time, by starvation, or by the madness disease that occasionally infects one of her species, causing it to attack and kill others of her kind before killing itself.

Her memory banks were devoid of any true threat of physical harm from another species.

Still, she knew that as the first of her species on this planet, she must exercise caution and ensure the safekeeping of her young. When she left her planet of origin prey was scarce there. Only the strong or lucky young could successfully compete with the adults; most starved to death. But here, on this planet, the prey was weak and easy to take. Her young might already be mature enough to hunt and feed with her.

She sensed the truth of that and decided to take them with her when she hunted after the planet's star was cool.

She also sensed it was time for her to adapt to moving on land, as her ancestors had done when it was expedient for them to do so. It was a simple evolution; the instructions were encoded in her DNA. Her young will make the change later, as will the young that will come after them.

Then, when the time is right, she and her kind will adapt to the air, grow wings large enough to lift their heavy bodies off the ground. With the freedom flight gives, they will disperse, each creature starting a new colony in a new body of water. The new colonies will follow her pattern; acclimate to the environment, adapt to the prey and the prey's defenses, and spawn. The pattern will repeat itself until their species are too numerous to be stopped.

They will then rule the planet and feed without restraint.

"Can you believe it, man? Real police work! No more walking old ladies out to their cars and no more messing around with little kids, we get to do real police work! Shit yeah!"

Randy Foghorn pushed his glasses up his nose for the tenth time and thumped on the dashboard of his friend, Buddy Bohner's, 1982 Pontiac Grand Am. The glasses immediately slid back down; it was a war Randy would never win. Between his greasy skin and the steep slope of his nose, no pair of glasses, no matter how light, would stay in front of his eyes longer than a few seconds. The greasy skin caused acne and slick shiny hair that never looked clean, even fresh from the shower. Rounding out the picture of a true geek, Randy was rail-thin and uncoordinated, walking like a marionette whose strings were controlled by a serious drunk.

Although the radio in Buddy's Grand Am was broken, Randy drummed his hands on the dashboard and bobbed his head, screeching unintelligible words and generally making a mess of some good rock-and-roll song. He was what his mother called a "high-functioning hyperactive." He'd been able to hold still and concentrate long enough to take tests, and passed enough of them to earn a high school diploma, but now that he was not constantly being yelled at to shut up and sit down he moved like the plastic men on the surface of an electric football game; bouncing and jittering, occasionally falling down.

He pushed, thumped, and screeched.

"We're just going to sit by a canal all night. What's the big deal with that?" Buddy said, steering his Grand Am to the Sonic Drive-In on McHenry. Plenty of time for cheeseburgers before sundown.

Buddy and Randy had been friends since seventh grade, bonded by their common lot as societal outcasts; Randy for his complexion and hyper personality and Buddy for his size, sloth, and last name. The "O" in Bohner was supposed to be a short "o," but the temptation to treat it like a long "" and call him Boner was too great for most kids to pass on. He'd caught a break the first three years of school because most kids don't know what a boner is until at least fourth grade. Junior high had been the worst, the teasing merciless.

Buddy liked Randy, except when he got real hyper, like this. He'd been relieved when they took Randy's nightstick away, was petrified when they made the mistake of giving him one in the first place. In his opinion, Randy Foghorn should never be given a weapon of any type. He shouldn't even be allowed to buy a pocketknife.

Buddy was fat and lazy. Despite the laziness he was gainfully employed because he loved to eat, especially fast-food. He really didn't care where they ate, he loved it all: Taco Bell, KFC, Quizno's, Subway, Burger King, Mickey D's, Pizza Hut, In-N-Out, Domino's, Del Taco. He once had a dream he had a Sonic Drive-In credit card with a five hundred dollar limit. That was as close to a wet-dream as Buddy ever wanted to get.

He'd let Randy talk him into joining the police cadets after high school, but regretted every minute of it. Unlike Randy, who did the cadet thing as often as they let him, sometimes even going out on his own without an assignment, dressed in his uniform, Buddy only did the cadets when Randy insisted. But when the summer was over, it would be adios police cadets; he'd had enough.

Buddy worked at the Frito-Lay plant in Empire, operating the machine that dumped carloads of potatoes into another machine that scrubbed and peeled them. His parents insisted he had to get a job or go to college, and he'd had enough of school.

Both boys still lived with their parents.

They ate their food in Buddy's car, and, just as Buddy had hoped, Randy was too wound up to finish his food; he got most of Randy's burger and fries.

Randy insisted they drive to their canal as soon as Buddy finished eating, even though it still light outside. "We gotta get set up, man. Some idiot might try to go running down our canal. We can't let that happen on our watch," Randy was slurping from a forty-four ounce Coke.

"You watch too many cop movies, Rand," Buddy replied, pulling into heavy McHenry Avenue traffic.

Buddy found their canal and parked close so they wouldn't have far to carry the stuff the cops gave them. Despite what he said earlier, Buddy had to admit this was the most interesting thing he'd ever done as a cadet. He was even a little excited.