Hawg

by Steven L. Shrewsbury

  He vowed not to let them make a fool of him and that Hux, he’d make sure it all worked out.

  CHAPTER SEVEN Executions

  Hux fell in line behind Big Ed as the biker convoy followed Elias. As usual on his ride, Hux felt stronger. He wasn’t certain how his plans would be affected by this silly action, but he felt staying near to Ed would be best. Certain that the other bikers were armed, be it a knife, gun, or some other implement, he felt safe behind this small army out to do terror.

  The old man Elias drove well enough, and never once tried to shake the gaggle of bikers that trailed him. Elias went out on Route 66 then cut across country. His slow, fixed tempo aped a man followed by the police. On occasion, he veered over the striped line, but made the correction fast. The bikers carried on, never slackening in their slow rate of pursuit.

  Hux could imagine what a few of the men had in mind for Elias, but wagered Big Ed would stop them before things got out of hand. He wondered why Ed let the stupid pursuit carry on. Perhaps Ed wanted to see what the exercise would yield. Hux needed Ed, for a bit…but needed his scapegoat bad.

  Even in the cool night air, Hux fought to suppress the nervous tremors in his pelvis. Ever since the attack by the creature, he couldn’t sit right. The pain throbbed, but usually faded. His own macho bravado refused to let the violation go. The smoke helped but no matter how much he dulled the pain to his ass, the pain inside his head couldn’t be so easily doused. Hux had to have revenge on the beast somehow, but his mind focused on matters at hand. Sure, the drug dealers would kill him in time no matter how much he sacrificed to their ego. Hux kept after his plan to sacrifice Big Ed.

  When Elias stopped at his trailer on the edge of Solow’s property, the dozen bikers lined up and left their lights blazing on the truck. Elias climbed out of the cab and wobbled in his steps. He turned to face the ten men and three women dismounted from the bikes in front of Hux and Ed. One of the men held a length of chain in his right hand. One of the women spun a tiny automatic pistol in her right hand. The last two stayed seated, watching.

  “Ed,” Hux said quietly. “This is pretty dim-witted.” “What is it you know, old man?” Tyler sneered, blonde hair waving as he thrashed his arms. “Tell us about the pig-man.”

  Kimmi Jo climbed off the back of a Harley and screeched loud, “Come along, Elias, we know how to get talk outta you. Don’t we all?”

  Elias vacillated once, then planted his feet and shouted, “I don’t know nothing, and you all should get along home.” But his gaze toward the big house acres away made them all shout his denial down. They cursed him, cussed his pleas down until the old man dropped his hands to his sides.

  One of the more portly bikers grabbed Elias by the right arm, shook him and said, “Yeah? Is that where he is from? Tell us more, old fart.”

  From out of the saddle bags of a full dresser Harley came a round object. The blonde biker Tyler held it exclaimed, “I got it here, fellas! This is something he will understand!”

  Hux put a hand to his beard and rubbed down once as he recognized the rope spool. The bikers shoved the old man back and forth, taunting him as Tyler started to tie a knot. Tyler looked at Big Ed and winked.

  Big Ed said nothing. Arms folded across his chest, the big man just watched.

  When they put the noose around Elias neck, the old man fought them. He kicked a bald biker in the crotch. The man, nicknamed Johnny Atlas due to his washboard stomach and huge biceps, went down to the ground. Elias swung his arms, bloodied the nose of another biker, but they were too many. One of the women giggled as she produced a pair of handcuffs and secured Elias’ hands behind his back.

  Hux commented, “Kinky bitch. I bet those are the ones she used on me.”

  Ed boomed in with great authority, “Tell us what ya know, Elias, and this stops now.”

  Tyler tossed the rope over the branch of a silver oak tree as Elias said, “You know better, Ed. I won’t betray my family.”

  “Solow isn’t your family,” Big Ed reminded him, the sound of his voice cutting the frenzy of the bikers down a bit. “You ain’t from around here.”

  Johnny Atlas, still careening from the shot to his nuts, snapped, “If Solow gave a shit, wouldn’t he come down here and help your sorry ass?”

  Noose tight around his neck, Elias calmed and replied, “The Lord provides.” Then he smiled.

  Hux never felt so cold as the feeling that smile awarded him. His body shook and he gripped his brake to stop his hand from shaking so much. His mind thought of his gun, but he never reached for it.

  Elias gazed down at them all and said with a smile. “It’s too late to stop it now, boys.”

  There was no cry, no warning, and no way to comprehend what was coming when Hawg struck the first biker. Tusks deep in the kidneys of the man in leathers, Hawg lifted him up fast and thrust the screaming body into one of the women. The twin jets of blood from this dying biker bathed the hands of Kimmi Jo Patrick. She gawked at her crimson hands, perplexed, before her wide eyes took in what happened next.

  Two bikers died instantly when Hawg grabbed each by the head and pulped their skulls together. Faster than a man clapping his hands, Hawg was through with them. His expanding claws gray with brains, he howled, his screech so metallic it made Hux’s hair stand up. The beast leapt forward, his momentum knocking the bloody handed woman and two other bikers down as he landed before the blonde man Tyler. Claws on Tyler’s biceps, Hawg drove tusks into the man’s neck. The beast then wrenched his head back. Tyler’s head came free of his neck and geysers of blood spewed up, poking up into the night a few times as his heart gave its last punches at life. Hawg twisted and the head flew from the tusks, bouncing off the front fender of Big Ed, smearing blood and gray matter on his wide white wall tire.

  A couple of the bikers moved to mount up, but they ran too close to Hawg’s stride. One stumbled, trying to get his leg over the bike. The other fumbled with his saddlebag, but in his panic, dropped the gun stored there. Seizing the left arm of one of these fleeing men, Hawg ripped the limb free and slapped the raw arm into the face of the other man mounting up. The biker who lost his arm screamed, gaping down at the blood spurting from his shoulder. Fingers in the blood, the biker cried out, as if patting the wound would make it better. Though the man Hawg struck with the limb clutched his face, dealing with the pain of a broken jaw, he soon lost all worry as Hawg swiped at his head awkwardly, opening up the back of his cranium. From under his ‘do-rag, his brains made their exit, staining the Harley tank top bought in Woodstock, Illinois.

  While that biker fell forward and his bike thrashed over to his left side, Big Ed and Hux fired up their Harleys. Ed pulled his gun, but the pandemonium of running people didn’t provide him with a clear shot. A few of the men pulled knives, but faltered at the moment of truth and paid the price.

  They started to pull away as Johnny Atlas made it to his bike. When a woman tried to get on the back, Johnny pushed her off and into the arms of Hawg. Screaming and crazed, the woman fought Hawg like a cat on fire, clawing, punching and biting with all she had. Like he handled a beehive, Hawg picked her up in the air, only touching her sparingly, and smashed her to the ground. The slam took her wind out, long enough for Hawg to leap up and pounce on her back with his hind hooves. Her shoulder blades snapped and she gagged, failing in her attempt to rise up and run. Hawg turned, bellowed, and went low enough to the ground in his motion to smell her backside. Atlas roared out away from the property after Ed and Hux.

  “Go, go!” Big Ed yelled at his men as they followed Hux off the land.

  Hawg took a step toward Elias and reached out toward him. He yanked Elias close to him, turned him around. Elias closed his eyes as Hawg gripped his wrists and snapped the cuffs.

  Elias pulled off the noose, eyes twinkling at Hawg.

  Red eyes flaring, Hawg looked away from him and toward the escaping bikes, now joined by the fourth rider. He started to follow, but one of the bikers he had knocked asunder started
to rise up. This man wore brass knuckles on his right hand and swung at Hawg. He struck the creature hard in the solar plexus and Hawg roared in pain. The dire right swung again, but Hawg grabbed the fist with his left claw. He extended the man’s arm and bit into his wrist. With a growl, he snapped off the man’s hand at the forearm, sending him to his buttocks.

  The man screamed, grabbing his ruined wrist. Hawg fell to all fours and charged, tusks digging into the man’s thighs. He bit through the man’s jeans and into his groin. The deep yell of the man changed in tenor as the gelding was complete. Not done, Hawg rooted, his tusks carrying in further, his teeth grinding into the man’s pelvis and lower abdomen. The biker choked and lost his ability to yell as Hawg burrowed on, through his intestines, liver and under his ribcage. Hawg split his sternum and bit into the man’s heart.

  Hawg rose up, tusks and face bathed in crimson, eyes on the fleeing bikers.

  And he was off, loping after them in long strides.

  ***

  Betty knew better than to ruffle Jack when he’d been drinking. She entrusted him space and let him get a shower before she said anything. Content to lie in bed and read, Betty played her cards close.

  “The police took everything they could off the Buick today.”

  “That’s good,” Jack said as he sat on the bed clad in his bathrobe. He directed his eyes to the floor and seemed lost in thought.

  “They sprayed it down as best they could. I had Trish run it through the wash a few hours ago.”

  He nodded. “Good.” He half smiled, knowing Betty did this to quell his anger. “Thanks.”

  “Though Doug took this, that other cop Matt returned it to me.” She held up a plastic baggy with the small dog collar in it. “He said it wasn’t part of the crime scene and was just trash. He said I could throw it away if I wanted to.”

  His face listless, Jack took the bag and asked, “How’s Jack Jr. doing?”

  Betty turned under the covers and said, “Fine. Sleeping like an angel.”

  Jack stared at the collar. “Buddy. Who the fuck is Buddy?”

  “Common enough name for a dog.”

  “I suppose.”

  Jack then related some of the tales he’d heard that night from the cops and how Andrew White’s son was nearly killed by something. It all sounded crazy to him, he told her. He then silently cursed the echoing bikers in the night.

  “Jordan White,” Betty said and fell deep in thought. “He must be getting big by now. I saw him in the paper a few years back with that show dog Schnauzer of his. It scored well at the 4-H Fair last year.”

  Jack lay down and said, “What? Jordan’s dog? What of it?”

  “Just a little irony, honey. I think that dog was named Buddy.”

  Eyes focused on the ceiling, a smile played on Jack’s lips as he said, “You don’t say?”

  ***

  Andrew sat on the edge of Jordan’s bed and listened as his son said, “It was weird, dad, but I am not lying.”

  “I’m just glad you are all right, Jordan. Sorry we got crossed up today.”

  “Hope you don’t get busted for leaving work.”

  Andrew waved a hand at the SPIDER-MAN wallpaper as if to disregard his workplace. “That place doesn’t matter. You do. I’m sorry I wasn’t there today.”

  Jordan peeked past his father, like he could see the monster on his ceiling. “If we weren’t so little. That thing would’ve got us. He couldn’t get in the mine. Better you weren’t there.”

  “Yeah. Still, I’d have blown its damned head off for trying to get you.”

  “Are they hunting it? The cops?”

  Andrew nodded. “I think they’ve issued a call to all the city, county and state cops to start a bigger search. In daylight they are going to get the choppers and the crop duster guys out, too.”

  “It slept in the crypt,” Jordan reminded him. “Maybe it’ll go back.”

  “Maybe. I think Doug’s guys are watching that place now.”

  “Good.”

  “Better get some sleep, son. You don’t have to go to school tomorrow.”

  That idea made Jordan smile as he rolled over. “Night dad.”

  “Night Jordan. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  “Say your prayers, son.”

  Jordan lowered his voice and said, “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take. God bless Mommy, Daddy, Gramma, Uncle Doug, Aunt Brenda, Jacob, Nathan, Gramma Faulks and Buddy. Amen.”

  Andrew went to his room and held his wife.

  ***

  Mr. Solow stood in his yard, looking at the police cruiser and the dead cop on top of it. Alex’s sphincter released and excrement ran down his pant legs and onto the hood of the car. Some dribbled in the dents made by Hawg’s hooves. He sighed, not concerned about the weak willed cop. It bothered Solow that Alex, in his drunken rage, had guessed correct about the origin of Hawg. How long until the Sheriff followed suit? Solow didn’t know, but he refused to get upset about it all. He still had a life to lead and responsibilities.

  He then gazed across the expanse of his property at the trailer of his hired man. The screams and reports from the Harleys dissipated at last.

  With a sigh, Solow took another drink and went into his house. Though he felt like another drink, he resisted the urge. Solow went to the bathroom, drained himself and washed his hands,

  Then, like any good citizen, he called the police.

  ***

  Hawg didn’t know if he could catch the bikes in a flat out run, but he saw their brake lights and scanned the field. He saw where they were bound, to cross the field and head back to the route by the train trestle. Hawg loped on a diagonal path, slicing the distance between them, placing himself ahead of them by far.

  The screaming metal machines worried Hawg. He didn’t fear them, for avoiding their touch was no problem as their movements proved linear. Nevertheless, if he stood in their way, they could easily outmaneuver him. Rather than try his hand at this fate, Hawg decided on a more instinctive course of action.

  Near to where the black top ended as the road forked toward the trestle opening, Hawg saw a large culvert. Though this tube wasn’t big enough for him to fit through, the hole gave him the idea for the biker’s fate. Their machines ringing in his ears, Hawg slammed into the side of the ditch near the culvert, digging like mad, burrowing for all he was worth. Fistfuls of dirt at his sides, Hawg rooted with his tusks and mouth, more of a machine than those that rumbled toward him.

  ***

  Hux relaxed some, figuring that they’d out-distanced the beast. His vindication running high, Big Ed would surely be on his side and fall in with his plans. Though he wanted the beast dead, Hux thought of how he sat and watched it rip into the bikers. Never once did he draw his gun and shoot. Never once did he move to fight the creature. No, he ran away. Throat heavy, eyes misty, Hux needed a drink.

  Once he waved at Big Ed in a friendly way, seeking reassurance. Ed mouthed “Fuck off” and that was that.

  The four survivors blared on down the road, determined to get back to Route 66 and the Green Parrot at the very least. Hux didn’t know what Ed would think of for his next course of action, but like the rest, he was sure fleeing and surviving was at the top of his agenda. He glanced back at Ed, Johnny Atlas and Cody Greenwell. None of them watched the road consistently. All eyes hunted for Hawg.

  Hux was the first to spot Hawg as he popped out into the ditch, as if he’d just came from under the road itself. Terror gripped Hux’s heart, but there was little he could do to warn the others. He doubted his senses at first, thinking his mind brought forward the horror that haunted him.

  He was also the only bike to make it cleanly over the area before the blacktop started to buckle.

  CHAPTER EIGHT Hawg Wild

  Micki opened her eyes when she heard the roar of the motorcycles. The darkness and severe cold duped her into thinking dea
th was there at last. But the horrid sounds forking into her ears and the pain that shot across her rigid frame told her otherwise. The weeds, the pinpricks of agony that raced all over her body, all of these remained and stung worse than before. There was no way to shut it out or keep it away. The pain in her joints felt icy, but the ruined sections of her skin burned at the edges.

  Her mind murky, Micki felt drugged and started to lose a sense of herself. Unable to concentrate, only seeking a way to be free of the experience, she again cried out. Immediately, she closed her mouth, afraid that the creature would return yet again, somewhere near to the loud bikes. The reality of the beast was clear enough in her mind, even if she started to forget much about herself.

  At first, she thought it all a terrible nightmare, and she would wake up in a bed someplace. Her mind bore down to focus on where that would be. Images of parents and a house bubbled in her mind, but the heat and violence of her last day smashed these roads to freedom away.

  Soon, Micki thought that her slayer had returned to rape her once again. No, the pain was too vivid and the smells too potent for it to be hallucination. The comfy bed and smells of her mother’s potpourri cooker faded out.

  It really happened , she wailed in her mind, the bastard returned again and used me. She heard the cries of children and then it all happened again, not as bad as before, for the creature never vied to kill her…only to use her for sex again.

  When she heard the roar of the Hawg in the night with the host of Harleys, she could only think of turning invisible.

  ***

  The rear wheel of Hux’s motorcycle dipped as if he hit a pothole. Panic set in as Hux turned his head and slackened his speed.