Hawg

by Steven L. Shrewsbury

  Hux could hear her screams ebb away, but pushed himself farther on. Mouthy to the last Hux mused about her as he aimed to get his feet going down the stitcher line. Around the next line walked Paula Gowran, full of shock and wonder at the sight. Hawg’s momentum took him past her, his elbow striking her side, sending her careening back into a huge cardboard box full of bad books. She screamed as well, but the creature never stopped to silence her. His red eyes focused on Hux.

  Day shift foreman Debra Johnson wasn’t so lucky. Her abrasive attitude was in full on nuke strike mode when she saw everyone leaving their lines to see where the noises came from. Hux assumed the old woman was out to get counts on the lines and she stepped right behind him, hands on her hips, angry at the world as always.

  Hawg wasn’t impressed with her attitude. He grabbed her outstretched index finger and snapped it backwards, then angled his head sideways. Her mouth kept working, yet Hux couldn’t hear her threats to Hawg as the tusks of the beast poked into her neck and the side of her head, before Hawg’s teeth bit into her mouth. Like a twisted kiss, Hawg bonded with her but a moment before drawing away. Blood gouted from her head as Hawg drew back, ripping her face off. She stood for a moment, convulsed and then dropped like a sack of bones, her life running out on the production floor.

  Hawg stepped on her, ribs breaking under his hooves, spitting her blood against the Plexiglas of the next line, still focused on Hux as the biker contended to get his feet to follow each other.

  Lena Alsdorf stepped around next, almost running into Hux as he fell on the floor, unable to get his coordination down. She faced Hawg and he dropped low, preparing to extract this small woman with ease via his tusks. His tusks swiped, tearing her sagging breasts loose, snapping her ribs as the steel gouged in fast. The momentum of the savage blow impelled her against the Plexiglas and she sank down low, leaving a smear of blood on the sign telling visitors how many days since their last lost time accident.

  Around the corner of the same machine ran David Wills. All he could perceive was trouble and he certainly never counted on what he ran into. He saw Lena sink by the glass and couldn’t do anything fast enough to stop Hawg from clutching his neck. When this happened, a dip of chewing tobacco spewed out of David’s lip. Hawg raised him up and then drove his skull into the nearby glass. David’s head pulped on the Plexiglas, leaving a stain of greasy hair, fragmented bone, blood and brain to dribble down near to Lena’s extended hand.

  Hux back pedaled, then saw Human Relations Specialist Karen Lauren freeze in her pumps behind Hawg. The creature never knew she was there. Unlike the others who happened across him, her open mouth didn’t emit a scream. Like all the rest who saw the beast, confusion reigned, and an initial shock stabbed deep. Karen dropped her clipboard and receded back into the stitcher line. Not an ugly woman for over forty, Hux sold coke to her hubby, Lou, who was in charge of Payroll up front.

  Hux reached the center hoist aisle and spider crawled into the open. He saw two hoists approach and hoped they would provide him with cover. On cue, Brian Miller arrived and stopped, eyes wide at the sight of Hawg. He swung his hoist around, preparing to exit the scene as Hux crawled into the open and Hawg stepped past the iron retaining barriers. Miller elevated his forks up five feet. His eyes narrowed as if he prepared to charge Hawg.

  At that moment, Jimmy arrived from the other direction on his hoist. He drove backwards as the hoist drivers were apt to do. Standing on his hoist, reality registered too late. Hawg grabbed him by the buttocks and yanked him free of the moving hoist. Once Jimmy’s foot was off the pedal, the hoist stopped cold, but he didn’t. Hawg slung him into Miller’s forks, the left one driving through Jimmy’s sternum. Jimmy gagged, arms flailing and then went limp. The pack of smokes rolled in Jimmy’s shirt stayed put, but his bowels let go all over the concrete production floor.

  Hawg made eye contact with Miller, but Hux’s scrambling motion up past the next barrier line made the creature switch his attention back to his prey.

  Hux turned the corner and scrambled past the bindery office. Again, he fell to the concrete as Hawg took a few strides. The bindery office door opened and out popped the shift coordinator, Carol Brandt. Her face hardly had time to record puzzlement as Hawg shoved her against the retaining pole, snapping her shin in the process. Carol cried out and Hawg up heaved his right claw. Like a cleaver, it dropped and tore loose the meat of her back, shearing it down to the vertebrae.

  Hux crawled by the hallway that led to the restrooms. A few of the guys from the pressroom walked over, stunned by the sight. Gopher saw Hawg and stopped. From out of the MENS room stepped Minh, oblivious to all, walking right into Hawg’s left leg.

  Hawg saw the men from the pressroom, and then Minh. The short man from IT locked eyes with the beast, but didn’t move a muscle. Hawg grabbed Minh by the ankles and scooped him up. With a roar, Hawg swung the small man like a bat, bludgeoning the first man from the pressroom. The heads met and a sickening echo rang in Hux’s ears. Gopher backed away, almost falling over the huge paper rolls there to supply the infeed. Hawg twirled Minh around and swiped him down, aiming at Hux’s legs. Kicking himself away, Hux avoided the blow, but saw Minh’s ruined skull hit the concrete. The sound was hollow, wet and final. From that impossibly bad wound and the feces splotches on his tan pants, Hux assessed Minh’s fate with ease. His profile resembled a gooey fingerprint, scrunched in and filled with lines.

  Hux scooted and pushed off the concrete, hard enough to rise up in full. Still, he backpedaled again and Hawg prepared to charge…just as Jack Sullivan descended his stairs, leading Andrew White down. Hux came face to face with Jack. The biker grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him around, putting the plant manager’s back to Hawg. He then pushed Jack toward the monster and ran the other way.

  Hawg bellowed and dropped both his claws down, chopping at Jack’s shoulders. Blood sprang from Jack’s yellow shirt and he cried out. Hawg made a stab with his tusks, but Jack turned around, facing his fate by mistake. Hand held out to stop the horror that tore open his back, Jack humped it to flee up the stairs, but Hawg stomped a hoof through Sullivan’s leather shoe. Nailed in place, Jack couldn’t stop Hawg as he embraced him like a pro wrestler, broke both Sullivan’s arms against his body, smashed his ribs until they crushed into his organs…and forced Jack to gape up at Hawg. The beast angled his head down, tusks splitting Jack’s head open in a double rut. Both eyebrows and cheeks sliced through. The skull opened and divided into three sections, Hawg broke the embrace.

  Hawg looked up the steps at Andrew, but White never went down any further. The beast quickly searched on after Hux and kept moving. Hux saw Andrew slip down the stairs after the creature stepped away. White pulled the fire alarm.

  While the sirens went off, Hawg only hesitated a moment. This time slip was long enough for Tonya Harmon to exit the pressroom office and walk past Hux. The biker recalled her, the one he didn’t want to bed from the pressroom as she was known as “Herpy Girl” for a good reason. Tonya supplied Hux with a confused expression, looked around as to why the alarms were going off, then stepped into the embrace of Hawg. Hux heard her scream as the creature grabbed her by the thigh and the right arm, but those screams paled by the ones she uttered when he threw her toward the spinning press infeed rollers. In a defensive pose, she put her hands out, but all this did was offer fuel to be fed through the tight, spinning rolls that only allowed something as thin as paper to pass through. Per their function, Tonya’s fingers shredded to grime and her hands crushed back to her forearms before someone hit the STOP button. A large crimson stain spewed up the white rolls of paper that traveled the length of the first units, hitting the inkwells that started to cover the initial plates for images.

  Hux stumbled and ran, this time past the doors to the cafeteria as he attempted to get across the pressroom.

  Hawg pursued, by his shifting looks and trembling body, he appeared somewhat shaken by the alarms and noises from the presses. None of it stopped
him, but it slowed him down.

  Earl Gamblin worked at the company for close to forty years. He never realized today would be his last day at Ambrose Brothers. A head pressman only a year shy of retirement, he walked down the line when he heard the screams from near the lunchroom. A stout man, and no pushover, he couldn’t help but freeze up at the sight of the monster. Hawg paid him little mind, only trying to get to Hux as the biker moved on up the main aisle. Earl stood too close to the aisle and Hawg grabbed him by the throat, pulled him up and dropped him over one of the huge paper rolls. Earl’s back broke in three places as he landed, and a piece of plaque popped loose around his heart. He was dead before the EMT’s arrived.

  Hux made it to the doorway at the edge of the pressroom that led into the ink storage area. Hawg’s claws gripped his leather jacket and Hux shed it, much to the anger of the monster. Hux was through the door and ran into the personal assistant to the Pre-Press Department. Scott Grady was a stocky man with ruddy skin. The dress clothes he wore appeared uncomfortable and tight about his bloated throat. When Hux grabbed Scott by the elbow and tossed him toward Hawg, the pressure on his throat was relieved. Adam’s apple ripped loose and his body slit open down his abdomen, Scott gagged and grabbed his neck and stomach. Shock spread on his face as he couldn’t hold his intestines in nor the flood of blood and gore. His jaw worked, his screams caught forever in his neck as Scott fell toward the Cyan inkwell.

  Hux took his chance, turned and ran down the narrow hallway. His boots took him closer to the pre-press department. The roar of Hawg rebounded off the slender hallway. Hux looked back as he ripped open the glass door. Each overhead light blessed Hawg with a momentary halo as he traversed forward, using the carpet for traction. Hux sprinted into the room full of dividers and computer stations.

  Pristine, cool and clean, this environment was unready for such a primal incursion.

  A few men in white shirts sipped coffee and talked about how the fire alarm must’ve been a drill. Della Rodgers walked up and listened to them as they talked. Alarmed by Hux running through, their conversation stunted to a few lines.

  “Too bad about Dinsdale,” one of the men said as he put his hand in his pocket. “He was such a family man, doting on that wife of his.”

  All of the men nodded soberly until the loud noises reigned. When the door burst into a thousand pieces of jagged glass, heads popped up from the computer station. Like a group of human gophers, they gaped at Hawg as he ducked through the doorway and stood up. Hawg shielded his eyes from the glowing lights overhead, but parted his fingers to see the figure before him.

  Some of the men drinking coffee squealed like girls at play while others pissed their khakis where they stood.

  Della Rodgers, controller of Scheduling, the one the company had groomed to replace Jack Sullivan some day due to her education, company ties and diversity record, died next. Hawg dropped down to lope after Hux and rammed right into Della, tusks into her stomach. Instinctively, he rose up, driving his tusks further into her enormous stomach, sending her up in the air and then screaming to the polished floor. Hawg slipped on the slick surface, his hooves unable to get good traction. His eyes saw the same thing Hux beheld…the innards of Della’s body, unborn baby and all, spilling out onto the floor.

  Hux thought fast, recalled a dark room for the scanning area that was situated nearby had an exit leading out the main entrance; he bolted for the curtained door. Through the darkness, he saw a reddish glow from developer lights, and saw two figures. Hux panicked at first, but understood the only real threat to him remained behind him. He sprinted across the room, but his right hip slammed into a developing machine, causing him to spin and yell out.

  His yell joined the holler of Hawg as the beast ripped the door of the darkroom open, spilling light into the chamber. Hux backed toward the other door, seeing the two other figures clearly in the light. It was Lou Lauren, tall, black haired, looking stunned. His pants to his ankles, he let his cock slip out of Mrs. Annette Moyer, computer analyst…she of the great bosom and teardrop shaped ass. Hux blinked, noting the gray pubic hair of the black haired man just as Hawg crossed the room and gave him a left handed chop, shearing off his rather large appendage at the gray pubic locks. As Lou screamed and gushed blood like a super soaker toy, Mrs. Moyer got a clue about what was going on. Hands in the sudden gush of wetness, she exclaimed, “Don’t come inside me!” She stared at her red fingers and screamed.

  Hux slipped out the door.

  The bright lights confused him for a moment, but he was heading toward the wooden door. Beyond this barrier Hux felt horny for the foray and reception area. The glassed in façade of the company looked so inviting beyond his path. Even more inviting were the fire trucks and cops cars outside the tinted glass. Through the wooden door, Hux barely regarded Juanita, the portly receptionist placed on display for all visitors to see. She was a kind lady, but not very good at her job. This kept the illusion high that Ambrose Brothers cared for cultural diversity, no matter how inconvenient it made contacting the plant’s switchboard. She exclaimed at Hux as he charged through, never asking for clearance as he hit the first of two glasses doors that led to the outside world. When he hit the second, the outer most, he found it locked. Eyes afire, he faced Juanita, who locked the door on him. This was a security measure for her to control and she frowned at him, somewhat pleased she stopped his progress.

  “Open the door you stupid bitch!” Hux screamed, slamming his fists on the glass.

  Whatever she was going to say never got out as Hawg burst the wooden door from its hinges. The creature took a few steps, then breathed several times as he looked out, seeing the outside world. His head turned toward Juanita as she screamed, but to Hux, Hawg appeared fatigued. Covered in blood and grime, chest heaving, the beast appeared winded.

  The creature hunched its back, bent and vented its bowels over the display cases. These cabinets of wood and glass housed the best product Ambrose Brother’s had to offer, the cream of their production efforts. Any customer would’ve been hard pressed to see their pristine examples of such labor now, covered in liquidy feces.

  Juanita screamed. Hux didn’t know how she could keep screaming and never take a breath. He turned to see Hawg face her, irritated by her yell and open-mouthed expression. Hawg’s eyes glanced at Hux and his tusks protruded, but the screaming woman still drew his ire. Hawg slashed at her, his entire body swiping in Juanita’s direction. She pushed away from her desk, still screaming, mouth agape. Hawg’s left claw missed her, but the slicing stream of urine that whipped from the end of the monster’s penis didn’t. The line of fluid bisected her mouth, causing her to stop yelling. Mouth closed, she dropped to her knees and started to choke under her desk. Hawg turned away from her, facing Hux. Again, the beast sucked air and didn’t make an initial charge.

  If the beast was tired or not, Hux himself remained trapped. Hux panicked and kicked at the glass to no avail. Outside, the firemen and police exited their vehicles, confused at what went on before their eyes.

  “Help me!” Hux screamed and thrashed. “That bitch locked me in with it!”

  A few of the cops saw Hawg approaching the first door. The beast spotted them as well. His red eyes scanning the crowd, clearly, he counted up his opposition.

  One of the policemen, a young Miller’s Fork cop of barely twenty-five years, drew his gun and fired. The shot shattered the main windows, causing a chain reaction to the entire façade.

  Hawg shielded his head as the shards started to rain, but leapt through the nearest gap. He landed on the bushes outside. These shrubs hadn’t greened up proper to spring just yet, so their stickery ends provided him little cushion as Hawg landed and rolled to the black top parking area.

  “Hold it!” one of the cops yelled at the younger policeman, but the kid kept firing.

  Hux saw the gun kick but never saw blood appear on Hawg. The creature roared and sprinted away from the vehicles, toward the long reeds that fenced in Injun Creek.
As the door opened, Hux heard a splash in the waters beyond the lot.

  “What in the hell was that?” the young cop exclaimed, gun shaking in his hand.

  The older officer zeroed in on Hux and asked in a steady voice, “Yeah, Hux, just what the hell was that?”

  “It knows me,” he said dryly. “That thing came after me…I don’t know…why…it didn’t care about anything but…” Choosing his words better, Hux said, “I don’t know anything man. I just came to work to get smokes from my locker.”

  The cop leered at him. “You can buy smokes anywhere, Huxtable.”

  “Am I under arrest?” Hux asked as more people started to run out of the main entrance.

  “No, but you better not stray too far until we understand what’s going on.”

  Hux nodded. “I gotcha. Still, I need some smokes.”

  The cops never stopped Hux as he started to walk around the other side of the plant, opposite the creek. This way, he navigated the rail lines and then loading docks. No one stopped Hux as the plant was in a state of panic. All he could think of was getting to his Harley and getting away.

  CHAPTER TWELVE Aftermath-2

  Doug washed his face in Mr. Solow’s sink, rubbing deep into the corners of his eyes to get what felt like boulders out. Sleep. God, he’d kill for sleep. He wiped his face on a dishtowel and gave the farmer a sheepish look. Solow just waved it off with a grin and turned towards the refrigerator. Doug’s cell phone rang and he saw who it was via the ID. Surprise spread over Doug’s face.

  “That’s odd. Hello Reverend Wingler.”

  “Sheriff,” the curt voice popped back. “Is there any news on my daughter’s whereabouts?”

  “How did you get this number?”

  The minister’s voice was rough, full of power as he said quickly, “Never you mind, for the Lord provides.”