Dear Sheriff of Salt Lake City,
The Mountain Gorillas were split into three even teams: the Florida Mountain Gorillas, the California Mountain Gorillas, and the Utah Mountain Gorillas.
Most of them have no actual residence. They’ve traveled across the US states more than a dozen times in three months, leaving behind many critically injured, paralyzed, or dead.
Adam, AKA the leader of the mountain gorillas, must be locked up or laid out for the vultures to eat. Otherwise, peace will stay gone, and your stupidity will mix with the bloodstain of the victims of the Utah Canyons.
Respectfully,
Red Forces
That was the recording of the letter.
The Surreal Forces gathered in an old, oval, and somewhat flat aircraft shaped like a yacht, but they were no threat to Silverback or Ivory. Their world objective was to own the Owl Ring; Silverback and Ivory had lost track of it with Bill. It was clear to them that they were now simply pests. Ivory and Adam were usually going away from or coming back to the canyons. They were the only souls that missed the spoiled odor of the bleak desert. It was the only environment in which the Piranhas would breed. Ivory was a peculiar one, but a rare beauty nevertheless, wishing to hoard ugly Frankenstein-like piranhas. The boiling temperatures of Utah stirred the fresh froth of summer and spat out the nasty cold of winter; the desert flowers sank and skated in the ring and cup of somebody’s vacuumed dream. This was the harsh reality of the Utah Canyons.
The Red Forces had to exterminate the Mountain Gorillas; they would come fast and surround them in fragile spots. There was no state or country in which they could hide their Harleys. They knew how to sniff, separate, and break 208 skinny bones until he, Bill’s brother, whispered the address of the storage business where the Owl Ring was kept in a box unit.
The Surreal Forces always remember a person’s face, voice, gesture, or manner. No? And they reached into any forbidden area or security. Ivory was once in a horrific Cuban prison, which would be like serving time in old Alcatraz. Between those two choices and Red Force’s sinister terms, Silverback or Ivory would rather face the Utah killer, the finisher, or darkness and pain in the wild arena of the Gray Wolf.
A sane person was once given a choice between living with their eyes closed or enduring, rather long screams. The surreal forces were Spies from silent wars that had yet to happen. Surreal Forces knew how to wear a mask; their genius, though sociopathic, copied personalities that ran as a government program of investment bankers, real estate agents, and CEOs who carried doomsday like a rabbit’s foot in their pockets.
They killed Spade Ivory’s beloved brother. The boss had not decided on the plan for him.
Their bottomless, lizard-like eyes hide their target, and there is no realism they couldn’t imitate. Spade crashed into a cement wall, and there was no hope of escape from the fire and black smoke. As far as the Surreal Forces, they had more important business to smash out than the Utah Canyon Killer. Sure, a madman, maybe, but they were of low fascination to any of them. The Surreal Forces were AI Robots, machines with all human characteristics except empathy.
The Mountain Gorillas were clean-shaven outlaws, not charming gentlemen. Many tipped over the ripe age of thirty. The Red forces were too wise to live or die on either side of the boundary line. The Surreal Forces spanned years and years, and more years promised them. No slow-moving grandpas, they could run almost as fast as the Grey Wolf. They were ferocious, exploding with rage in less time than an egg boiled. Seconds. The natural serial killer who sheared off tongues with a cheese grater while the prey was still alive. What did Adam, the finisher, or the Utah madman have on them?
Zero.
The Grey Wolf had other thoughts as he finished reading the letter beneath the moonlight shower on the Utah Desert and Rocky Mountain ledge. The Earth’s carpet was spread out below where the Grey Wolf stood, and a majestic howl rang out like fireworks. His muscles were boulder-sized and deadly, four paws that could kill instantly. With clouds appearing in the moonlight like hot flying ash and larvae from above, the bodies were yet to be found below in the mysterious canyons by the Utah killer. A howl swept the vast desert and struck the heart of the canyons; the trees tilted and tore in the electric wind of its deep growl, unleashing the frozen iron of darkness and the solemn spirits of war with the desert Grey Wolf.
Celia Garza 