Support Your Local Monster Hunter

by Dennis Liggio

  We did a quick check that the walkie talkie he had handed me worked, then we set out. First we were checking the building perimeter. I was going around the left side while he was going right. The building was big enough that there was plenty to scout before we went in. For all his bravado, Meat still believed in getting a tactical advantage. We want to see any signs of activity before going inside.

  I trotted to the left side, keeping my head down. I'm pretty sure there weren't any snipers, but I wasn't going to risk it. Carrying a gun made me think everyone else had guns, and I was going to do this textbook-tv-show perfect. I ran to the edge of the building, then propped myself flat against the wall. To my right on the front of the factory were two garage doors for the loading docks. Both were closed. Up close, they didn't look as in bad a need of repair as everything else, so I noted that in my head. Then I moved to the side of the building, and peered around. I didn't notice anyone or a place someone could hide, so I headed around.

  My walkie crackled to life. "I have sighted three targets," said Meat, his voice low. "By their movements, possible zombies. Going to investigate. Maintain radio silence until I contact you. Over."

  I nodded, a second later remembering he couldn't see the nod. "Roger, over," I said. Then I wondered if I had just fucked up. Did he mean radio silence immediately? Or after I confirmed the silence? I shook my head. Didn't matter now.

  I continued pacing the side of the factory. The brush to my left had grown in toward the factory in the recent years, but I still had room to walk. Trees from the woods in back loomed over the building. I noticed an errant footprint in the few places where the grass and gravel had given way to mud.

  About halfway down this side of the building I noticed a hole in the wall. Something had broken through the wall and masonry. It was a man sized hole, and a piece of rebar was sticking out of the stone. I couldn't tell what had made it, but I could tell it hadn't been made recently. Looking through the hole, I could see directly into the front loading area of the factory. It was dim, but light through high windows did give it some illumination. The place was dusty and mostly empty. However, the one thing it did contain was a big eighteen wheeler truck. It had a trailer attached to it, though there was a faded logo for Kelvin Automotive - either a mechanic or a car dealership. It didn't look old or in disrepair. And by the back of the truck stood a man. He was mostly in the shadows, so I only saw that he was medium height, medium build. By his movements, he wasn't a zombie. He moved too fluidly and purposefully.

  This seemed important. A mysterious truck and a strange man hanging out in a rundown factory was definitely of note. I reached toward my walkie talkie, but then remembered Meat's call for silence. Okay, what now? As I watched, the man walked toward the front of the truck, and I heard the loading dock door opening.

  That meant the truck was about to leave and I didn't know what Meat's call was going to be on the matter. We hadn't had an objective other than recon, but we were ready to deal with a problem should it arise. At this point, we didn't know anything for sure. Meat was investigating possible zombies. But maybe they weren't zombies and instead just... some guys... with joint problems... hanging around an abandoned factory? Maybe? Though if they weren't monsters, they were doing something sketchy here. We could have just found some sort of drug operation. Ultimately, we just didn't have enough information. I decided we needed to know something for sure and I had an idea how to find out. I was going to check out the truck. Curiosity and something about the cat.

  Trying to walk as quickly and as silently as I could, I trotted over to the back of the trailer, keeping an eye out for the man I saw. I didn't notice him anywhere, but at least I was pretty sure he didn't see me. The back of the trailer was locked with a shitty little padlock. More symbolic than anything, I had it popped off in seconds. I pulled my flashlight out of my pocket. Then as silently as I could, I lifted the trailer door up and shined my flashlight inside.

  I looked for just a second and then slammed the door down as hard as possible, my heart beating frantically. I turned and sat upon the handle for the trailer door, trying to get over the shock and hoping that would help keep the door down, though its own weight should have done it. There were a number of pinging noises as things struck the trailer door from the inside, which added to my tension.

  "Holy shit holy shit holy shit," I repeated as a mantra to try to keep my shock manageable.

  When I had shined the light in the trailer, I saw some canisters, a mound of terracotta-like clay, and then a countless number of small moving legs. Inhuman legs. My reflexes were the only reason I was still alive.

  The walkie talkie crackled to life. "We have a problem. The zombies I tracked were not normal ones. They were Spider puppets. They're dead, but do not engage, do not enter the building. Extreme caution. You hear me? Over."

  My face still pale, I nodded. No shit, Meat. Extreme caution! I was fighting an urge to run like fucking hell.

  Spiders were one of our scariest foes and I was glad they didn't show up often. Not actually arachnids, the little insect creatures sure looked like spiders as they dashed toward us.. We've never gotten a better name that didn't sound like a goddamn mouthful of alphabet soup, so the name Spiders stuck. The size of a Chihuahua and far meaner, they were frightening They were a hive creature with paralytic venom. An individual Spider was a quick little bastard, but not much of a problem. A group of them was deadly. They could also in some cases burrow into a disabled but still living victim's spine, then somehow control them. They could make you walk around like a zombie. No advanced motor function, and when they tried to talk, it was slurred and strange. The puppet wouldn't fool many, but it could do things Spiders couldn't and if it got you close enough before you discovered the ruse, you could be lured into a trap.

  What do Spiders actually want? What do they do? We had lots of unanswered questions about their place in the ecosystem. Eating people wasn't their main concern - though they did eat people, often taking their body and adding it to the hive, so that the body was slowly covered and integrated. The biggest thing about them was that they were territorial and their territory kept expanding, even into populated areas. They were like an evil group of roaches in your home who decided that you were the infestation.

  Spiders always formed a hive, made out of reddish clay. We didn't know if only certain Spiders could create a hive or any of them could, but the hive was the heart of their infestation. Kill the hive and generally the problem solved itself, though we'd try to kill as many of the little fuckers too just in case. Don't kill the hive and they'd just come back, in greater numbers and more pissed off than before. I've been part of burning down two hives, and each time, I was shocked we didn't have casualties. So when dealing with Spiders, finding the hive was absolutely essential.

  In this case, that easy part was done.

  The hive was in the goddamn trailer I had looked in.

  The why of it was lost on me. Why in a trailer? Did the Spiders have some great plan for migration? Had someone moved the hive there without the Spiders killing them? Who was that guy I saw? The man didn't move like a puppet unless puppets had gotten a whole lot better.

  I picked up my walkie and pressed the button to say something, but before I could, I heard the truck I was sitting on start up, the entire thing vibrating with rumbling power. Whoever that man was, he was about to ride off into the sunset with the hive.

  Sure, I could probably write down the license plate number of the truck and we could somehow try to trace it. Maybe Paulie could get something off that, maybe not. But they were driving off with a Spider hive. They could drive for an hour and drop it off damn near anywhere and start an infestation before driving elsewhere, and we'd be only able to find the truck. We didn't have time to track it. We didn't have time for anything.

  "Fuck..." I said involuntarily, my finger still on the walkie's button.

  As I found myself making split second decisions when every possibility was terrible, I heard Me
at's voice. "...Szandor? Is everything alright?"

  I felt the driver put the truck into gear and it start to ease forward.

  "Fuck!" I said again, letting go of the walkie button and stuffing it into my jacket.

  I already knew I was going to do the stupidest thing possible. I knew I was going to do it from the time I started deliberating, I just didn't want to actually do it, because of the sheer stupidity of it. But I had to. This truck had to be stopped. That hive couldn't get away. Someone was going to get hurt before we found it again.

  I turned and immediately leapt onto the back of the trailer, finding a perch on the bumper and holding on to what parts of the trailer frame I could. The driver now gave the truck some gas as he pulled out of the factory and headed for the highway. No effort was made to close the garage door behind us, he just kept going. We weren't going fast, just normal slow speed for a truck with a trailer on a side road. Based on his driving, I was pretty sure the driver didn't know I was stowed away. Or if he did, he didn't care.

  Still in my pocket, the walkie crackled into muffled life. "Szandor? What's going on? I just heard a truck drive out from the factory. Do you know anything about it? Over."

  I pulled out the walkie and tried to talk on it while keeping my precarious grip on the trailer. "I'm on the truck! There's a Spider hive here and - oof!"

  The truck went over a bump. The walkie flew out of my hand and clattered on the ground behind the truck. I watched for a moment as the walkie got farther and farther away until I couldn't even discern it from the road anymore.

  Welp, I guess I'm on my own, I thought.

  As the truck started carrying me farther and farther from my only help, my body holding onto the back by the strength of my grip, I considered my options. First, just hang on for dear life. I didn't know how long the trip was going to be, if cops or anyone else would see me, or if I could even hold on for that long. Supposing everything went perfectly, once the truck finally arrived at its destination, I could call Meat for backup or destroy the hive alone. While it would require the least effort from me (just holding on), there were a lot of uncertainties in that plan, and a whole lot of risk. Second option, hop off, get the license plate number, and contact Meat. That would require the truck to slow down enough for me to jump off safely. And then it was the same problem that caused me to get on the trailer, the hive would get away and we might never find it again - or we'd find it after people were dead.

  The third option was to do some crazy sabotage. I could do something to the truck that in the shorter term which would... I don't know, disable it? Destroy it? I really didn't know what I could do. I did have a gun, which was an advantage in my favor I didn't usually have, but what could I use it for? I could shoot out one of the back tires, but trucks and trailers have like eighteen wheels, just one or two might not be enough. Hell, the wobbly driving from missing a wheel might actually throw me off the truck.

  No, I realized as the wind whipped past the side of the trailer and my face. I needed to stop the driver.

  Do you ever have those times where you make one stupid, reckless decision and once you're in that mess, the only solution is an even stupider, more reckless situation? Or is it just me? It feels like it happens to me all the time. It happens to Mikkel every so often, but I find myself in stupid shit all the time. Maybe there's something wrong with me. But in this situation, the double down was the only worthwhile play I could make.

  Wind whipped furiously in my face as I, with great effort, pulled myself up onto the roof of the trailer. See what I mean? Completely stupid and reckless. If this was a train, at least I could say there was some movie cliché I was fulfilling; Mikkel wouldn't begrudge me climbing to the top of a moving train and getting into a fist fight. But the top of a trailer? Goddamn, I knew this was stupid as soon as I stood up on it. The truck had just pulled onto the highway. It was still going slow, but I felt like I was on some carnival ride. Every time I've watched a truck on the road, it always seemed like the trailer was solid, moving in a straight line behind the truck. What I learned was that trailers in fact are not solid and straight. They wobble like a motherfucker. I had never been on a boat, but I was beginning to feel like I was on one right now. Except if I got tossed off into the water, I'd instead land on very hard asphalt and the fish which would nip at me would instead be fast moving cars.

  There was a strong part of me that said I should just climb back down onto the back of the trailer. The confused drivers that beeped at me seemed to say the same thing, but as far as I knew, the driver of the truck didn't seem to understand what the cars were trying to communicate. Maybe it was because of the horns of the other cars that he kept his speed slow, confused by a possible danger which he wasn't aware of. That was a blessing for me. In halting, wobbling steps, my body crouched and ready to cling to the roof of the trailer at the first sign of losing my footing, I walked the length of the trailer.

  Was this the stupidest thing I had ever done? Maybe, maybe not. Top ten, at least.

  Wind whipped at my face and clawed at my body, wanting to yank me off that roof. I'm sure that it didn't take that long to walk across the trailer, but it felt like an agonizingly long time. Every step was careful, measured, and nerve wracking. Every step meant I needed to rebalance against the movement of the truck and the force of the wind. And once everything was accounted for, I had to take a new step, ruining the delicate balance again.

  Somehow I made it to the truck cab. I still marvel at that. I didn't fall off! And as far as I could tell, the driver was unaware of my presence. Of course, when I then stepped onto the truck cab roof right above him, then he knew. There was no way he didn't hear my boot, and seconds later he had to have connected it to the horns of all the cars he had heard, as if I were the guy with the hook in a campfire story. He must have realized, as seconds later the truck accelerated rapidly. I lost my footing immediately, slamming down on the top of the truck. I grabbed at the edges, clinging on in a panic as the truck hit high speed.

  Behind me, the trailer was wobbling wildly, clearly not okay with the sudden acceleration. I needed the driver to slow down and stop. Whether he was in league with the Spiders or somehow didn't know his cargo, he needed to pull over. I stretched my arm over the side and banged on his window. Other than continued acceleration, the driver did not answer me. I banged on the window again, and the only response was the truck's horns blaring. Since I was on the truck roof, it was right next to my ears and I winced in pain from the noise. I think he was trying to get me to move or fall off the truck, but I wouldn't give him that satisfaction.

  I realized that things needed to get violent. I was in a bad situation and the man was transporting Spiders - extreme measures were now justified. I reached into my jacket and pulled out my lead pipe. It fit awkwardly in my hand, since I had to use some of my hand to hold on when I wasn't banging on the window. I reached that arm over the side and fought the wind resistance. Then I slammed the pipe against the driver's side window. It shattered satisfyingly, but then glass fragments bit at my hand and I lost my grip on the pipe. I imagined it hit the asphalt behind us and bounced, and I hoped that it didn't hit a car and kill someone.

  The acceleration faltered, but the driver didn't brake and didn't say anything. I knew I would need to get personal. The driver's side window was shattered, barely any glass left in it. Using my muscles and ignoring the blood coming off my hand, I pulled my upper half down so I could be face to upside down face with the driver. I figured I could reason with him, punch him, or even pull myself into the truck to take over driving duties. It seemed like it worked that way in the movies.

  Once I hung down, I saw the driver flinching from the wind and the glass by leaning toward the center of the car, but still keeping his hold on the wheel. With profound will, I grabbed his jacket and pulled him toward me. I wanted to talk to him, to tell him to pull the fuck over or something. I didn't pull him far enough that he couldn't drive; that would be bad for both of us. But I did
yank him roughly, exposing him to the wind.

  We came face to face and we both panicked. With his face right in front of me, I recognized him immediately. Bald bulbous head, expression of anxiety, light eyes full of fear. How was this even possible? I had seen him die! I didn't know how, but I knew it was true. This was the same man from the alley of the barbecue restaurant, the man whose head had exploded right in front of me.

  "What the...?" I said, releasing my grip so the man fell back against his seat hard. "What's going on?"

  "N-no! No, don't!" said the man. "Nooooo!"

  Even as he was saying it, I saw his head seem to expand slightly, as if his cranium was a large bubble.

  And then a second later, his head exploded.

  Red blood and brain parts covered the windshield. I got less blood on me than last time, mostly on my face and arm. The driver's body went slack and in my own panic I pulled myself up from the window to get away from the blood, so I was now back on top of the truck.

  Almost immediately, things went wrong. The driver had been going too fast, his hold of the wheel the only thing keeping the truck and the trailer from catastrophe. Without him, the truck and trailer immediately jackknifed - the truck made a rapid turn left from no one at the wheel, but the attached trailer still had the momentum of going forward, so it jammed straight into the turning truck, sending it forward and sideways at once. That momentum screeched against the resistance of the road, the wheels not enough to stop the massive force of the trailer. The road couldn't stop it and the wheels couldn't maintain it. The trailer pushing forward and down on something without enough give caused the back of the trailer to move upward - and in a second, the truck and trailer launched into the air.