The white lines of a country highway whizzed under the car as the headlights wobbled about like a set of googly-eyes, but George couldn’t afford to slow down. He knocked the lights loose as he made his escape and caromed off of dumpsters, parked cars, and a building. In the swirling light, he suddenly saw a cow standing in the road, its eyes shining back like two gold coins. George pulled hard on the wheel, missing the cow but clipping the frame of a livestock grate acting like a ramp, launching car up on two wheels, the lights still swiveling for some purchase in the country darkness. The car began to tip over, so George turned away from the fall, slamming the car to the pavement blowing out both tires and cracking an axle. He was able to limp the car off the road and into the tall weeds. Settling in the grass, it dripped fluids and roiled steam as George walked back up to the road looking for any signs of life. “No red lights, no white lights,” he said, meaning there were no cars nor homes he could see. A slight, steady breeze from the southwest carried a swirled mix of wood smoke, heat from the road, and the verdant smell of freshly cut hay. If there was smoke, people likely made it and hay doesn’t cut itself. But where to go? The fields would be the safest, but a road would lead to somewhere. If he went along the road, he’d have to explain himself. He decided to cut across a field and hopefully find a dirt road or a canal he could follow. The moon lit his way as he tried to walk in a straight line. Haystacks piled at intervals marked his progress, their sweet grassy smell soothing him a bit. He couldn’t help taking a deep breath of the sweet smell of each one he passed. He hadn’t been outdoors in over four years.
***
Emerson bellowed, his voice shaking the walls. Emerson was a Tunnel Man. Twenty-five feet tall and nearly as wide, Emerson and his kin were unearthed when a silver mine in northern Idaho opened up a new shaft on the bad advice of the company’s alcoholic geologist. The tunnel boring machine hit an unexpected void and shut down automatically. Although the machine did not have a reverse gear, it started moving backward. Three of the Tunnel Men pushed its four thousand tons out of the way. Several more spilled out of the hole and into the tunnels, capturing and eating any miners they could. Dozens of them made their way to the surface, wreaking havoc and gobbling up half the town. When they’d had their fill, they slept.
The next day a full military assault rained down on them with little effect. Scientists theorized some combination of silica, iron, and radon had given them super strength. Hundreds died in the battle, the Tunnel Men nibbling on the remains as they pulverized the attack. Eventually, diplomats were sent in to cut a deal. The giants didn’t speak, instead grunting and whistling, but in the end, so long as they had plenty of food, the Tunnel Men were content to eat, sleep, and binge watch Netflix.
They giants gradually drifted apart, each setting up his own territory in different parts of the United States. The economy shifted slightly to accommodate them, and remote parts of the country became boom towns with new military bases built, food distribution centers established, and ancillary businesses popping up around the giants. Bomb-proof dining halls were built to house the them and although working near them came with dangers, those willing to put in two years and survive, earned a small fortune.
If startled, the Tunnel Men lashed out at the nearest attendant, which meant a slow death by being eaten limbs first, or a quick one by being squashed. The only attendants immune to the potential violence were the favorites. Being a favorite to a giant was akin to being a lap dog. The giants wanted their favorite with them at all times, wanted them to sleep on or near them, wanted them to follow close behind if they went for a walk. George was Emerson’s favorite. He didn’t like it, but since the giants usually moved onto a new favorite after six months or so, George figured it wasn’t such a bad way to complete his tour.
Unfortunately, Emerson really liked George. As he neared the end of his two years, George was offered a large bonus to stay on another year or until Emerson lost interest—whichever came first. Emerson never lost interest in George, and as he neared the end of his fourth year, he knew no amount of money would be worth another year tied to a Tunnel Man.
***
George’s escape plan involved getting someone to sneeze. He took to kicking up any dust he could find or tearing apart feathers and blowing them into the air—anything to encourage a sneeze. Eventually, as a rookie food server was clearing away the detritus of Emerson’s lunch, George managed to blow some dander over the server’s head. Before he had a chance to stifle it a sneeze leaped out, startling the giant who gave the server the back of his hand, sending him wheeling through the air, hitting the wall with a loud crack. He flopped to the floor in an awkward pile. Everyone ran out of the hall to escape any residual rage—everyone except George.
An agitated giant was left alone until he slept. Upon waking, they resumed their regular schedule of eating and watching TV. George waited until Emerson had just fallen asleep and ran to the dead food server. “Sorry pal,” he said. George quickly swapped clothes with the attendant, dragged him into the bed where he slept next to Emerson, took the dead man’s place, and laid very still. Once Emerson was snoring, the other attendants retrieved what they thought was the dead man and tossed him in the trash. George dug his way out of a dumpster and stole a car.
***
George was walking along a dirt path next to an irrigation canal and felt a little giddy. The fresh air and stars overhead felt like freedom. But as he walked, he thought he felt a vibration. He halted. The ground shook under his feet and water splashed over the canal banks. “Emerson is going to tear that place to the ground.” He looked up at the Milky Way, thinking about what to do. “Not my problem,” he said and walked faster down the path.
***
Emerson tore the building down looking for George. When he couldn’t find him, he started to wail, shattering all the glass in a mile radius. Sobbing, he began to pound on the earth. The force of it cracked foundations and knocked people off their feet. He was signaling distress, reaching out to his fellow Tunnel Men in his hour of need. The vibrations traveled thousands of miles, alerting the other giants who came running to help, like a herd of angry elephants protecting their own.