Extinct by Ike Hamill Page A

I kept going into a little of a dream state or something. I know this sounds weird, but maybe since you’ve heard of this plant, you’ve heard of this as well?”
    “Dream state?” asked Herm.
    “Yeah,” Brad said. “It was… It was like I became unconscious for a few moments. I thought maybe it was a sound or a chemical the plant is giving off?”
    “Did you see any out of place puddles, patches of fog, boulders, piles of sand, or lava flows?” asked Herm.
    “Lava flows?” Brad asked. “Do you think I would be talking to you about plants if I’d seen any out of place lava flows?”
    “Flows or pools—any molten or even iridescent metals?” asked Herm.
    “No,” Brad said. “But a boulder, yes. I did see an out of place boulder.”
    “And the boulder was with the plants?” asked Herm.
    “Yes,” Brad said.
    “Did you hear a loud ‘tock’ sound, like a giant clock?” asked Herm.
    “Yes. It was more like a click, but yes,” Brad said.
    “Thank you," Herm said. He walked back to his car and opened the door. Herm reached across the seat and his torso disappeared from Brad’s view for a second. When he reappeared, he was holding a hand-held radio unit. “Can you show me the area now?”
    “Like I said, I’m a little concerned,” Brad said.
    “Don’t worry," Herm said. “I’ve read about this. We’ll be fine. I’ll call into the office, and if we don’t check back in, one of my co-workers will come. But there’s really nothing to be worried about.”
    “Okay,” Brad said. He was still hesitant, but Herm knew about both the rock and the clicking sound, so he felt inclined to go along with him. Plus, Herm seemed very professional—not likely to take unwarranted risks, despite how tired the man looked.  
    “Let me just change my shoes first,” Brad said. “You might want to consider socks, if you’ve got them.”
    “Thanks, I’m fine," Herm said.
    Brad shrugged and walked over to his side door. He kept his boots on the tile floor of his entryway, so he sat down on the porch to change into them. While Brad laced up the boots, Herm just stood there, looking off into the distance.  
    “Hey, um, Mister …” Brad said. He couldn’t remember the man’s name. It was something silly sounding—weird nickname—he remembered.
    “Herm," the man said, “call me Herm.”
    “Thank you, Herm. You can call me Brad. May I ask, what was the rock thing I saw out back?” Brad asked.
    “I have no idea," Herm said.  
    “But you mentioned rocks as part of your list, with the lava flows, and the iridescent metal, and the mist?” Brad asked.
    “Patches of fog," Herm said. “Yes, it’s one of the things I read about.”
    “Read about from?” Brad asked.
    “We get bulletins from the Office of Communications. The rocks were mentioned with your plants in one of those," Herm said.
    “Huh,” Brad said. “But they didn’t say what they were?”
    “Probably not important," Herm said. “I just need to make an identification for the abatement group.”
    Brad finished with his boots and stood up. He walked past Herm and waved for the man to follow. "And the abatement group does what, exactly?” Brad asked.
    “They just work to eradicate or control the invasive infestation. You can imagine—herbicides, bush hogs, maybe some burning," Herm said.
    “Sounds like it’s going to cost me,” Brad said.
    “Nope," Herm said. “Your tax dollars at work. It’s for the common good, so the government foots the bill.”
    “Good to know,” Brad said. He held open the gate between the driveway and the field and let Herm walk through first. He pointed ahead and said, “Straight back to the other gate.”
    “You’ve probably seen our guys before on the side of the highway with the orange jumpsuits. We get a lot of invasives along the highway, from tourists," Herm said.
    “I can imagine,” Brad said. Brad noted how talkative Herm had gotten once they were underway. But it seemed like just as