Extinct by Ike Hamill Page B

quickly as the conversation began, it was over. Herm didn’t offer any more information.
    Herm walked at a fast pace. Brad unlatched the back gate and Herm was already dozens of paces away by the time Brad buttoned the gate back up. Brad dropped into a half-jog to catch up with the tall man.
    “You might want to watch your step,” Brad said. “Those things grow at a pretty fast pace, and I wouldn’t envy you if one wrapped around your ankle.”
    “Thanks," Herm said.
    They walked in silence for a while down Brad’s path to the back clearing. Walking side by side, they brushed the trees and bushes which crowded in from the sides. Brad usually cleared the brush along the path once or twice a month during the summer when he wasn’t too busy with work. This year he’d have to wait until fall, when the weeds were a bit more manageable.
    Brad broke the silence when they had walked about halfway to the clearing, “So,” he said, “how long have you worked for the USDA?”
    “Ten years," Herm said. The answer came fast and didn’t reveal anything to Brad. He usually got a sense of whether someone liked their job just by how they answered that question. A sigh, a smile, a head-tilt all meant something, but Herm snapped off his answer and kept his eyes moving, scanning the sides of the path.
    “Good work?” Brad asked.
    “The best," Herm said. His tone stayed flat.
    “Wait,” Brad said. He put out his hand to stop Herm, but Herm had already stopped. “Did you hear it?”
    “No," Herm said.  
    “I thought I heard a click,” Brad said. “Probably just a squirrel.”
    Herm started walking again. Brad fell in behind him and Herm picked up the pace, walking fast up the hill to the clearing. Herm stopped at the edge of the weeds.
    “I should have brought a knife or something,” Brad said. “Did you want a sample.”
    Herm didn’t answer right away, he scanned the tree line at the far edge of the clearing. Brad knelt to look at the vines, but Herm stayed upright.
    “You saw a rock over there?” Herm finally asked.  
    Brad looked up; Herm pointed to the spot where Brad last saw the mysterious spinning boulder.
    “Yeah, that’s the spot,” Brad said. “How did you know?”
    Herm bent down and reached for the end of a vine.
    “Careful!” Brad said, shuffling back a half-step.
    Herm’s hand never slowed. He snatched the very tip of a vine between his fingers and pulled it back. The vine thrashed as Herm pulled it back. Brad moved out of the way and Herm stretched the vine several feet before it pulled taut. The vine stopped trying to flip and curl as Herm tugged. Brad stepped to Herm’s side and leaned in to look at how Herm was holding the vine. The very tip curled around Herm’s index finger, but it didn’t look like it had sunk any thorns into the man’s flesh.
    “Is it what you thought it was?” Brad asked. “The thing from Georgia, or whatever?”
    Herm didn’t answer. He tugged at the vine several times, about once every two seconds. Flowers popped open near the base of the vine. He tugged four more times and flowers, orange and purple, started opening on the suspended portion of the vine.
    They heard a loud “tock,” from somewhere on the other side of the clearing, deep in the woods. Herm stopped tugging.
    “Back up," Herm said.
    Brad scrambled back down the path and Herm backed up until he held the vine at arm’s length. He dropped the vine and stepped away. The vine floundered and twisted. Each flop brought it closer back to the vine patch until it regained the company of its fellow vines.
    Herm reached to the radio clipped to his belt. He pressed a button on the side twice and then turned towards Brad.  
    “We should head back," Herm said.
    Brad could barely make out what Herm said. A loud “TOCK!” interrupted the sentence, but Brad got the gist. Brad started down the hill first and Herm followed close behind. The heard a few more of the loud clicking noises while they walked, but