crazy stuff is gonna get out all over, Doug.”
Normally, this wasn’t such a personal event to rate a
cameo by the county sheriff. But this wasn’t a normal day in
Miller’s Fork.
“Fucking monster, killed them all,” the man
blubbered, huge buckteeth popping from his mouth as his
eyes suddenly lit on the Sheriff. “Your brother was there! I
saw him on the stairs when the thing butchered Jack
Sullivan!”
“Calm down, Gopher,” Doug said with a gentle tone.
“Let’s get you home.”
“Where’s safe anymore?” he wailed, tears streaming
from bloodshot eyes, knuckles still white on the jukebox.
“Can I be safe in my bed seeing that big monster in my
dreams? Yeah, I said it! You heard me good. It wasn’t a man
at all. I saw it and will never quit saying it.”
“Calm down, Gopher,” Doug said insistently, hands
on his gun belt.
“This ain’t Russia! I’ll tell ‘em all, drunk or sober,
what I saw until my dyin’ day. Not everyone who saw it is a
drunk, Sheriff! Your brother saw it, he pulled the fire alarm
after it killed Jack Sullivan!”
Doug reached down and yanked Gopher up by his
forearms. “You need to sleep this off.”
“It ain’t gonna be that easy,” Gopher whimpered,
eyes closed, tears streaming..
“What’s going on, Sheriff?” Fanchie asked, fingers
drumming on the bar. Several patrons looked at Doug with
listless faces, as if they all spoke with the owner.
***
The thump from the sky drove into Hawg’s spine as he ran after Hux. While cars screeched to a stop at a series of stoplights, letting them pass through, Hawg stopped a hundred yards beyond, Although his breath returned to him fast, he saw the chopper overhead, blades spinning. He saw the biker’s back light flare as he slowed; aware Hawg no longer pursued him.
Hawg scanned the nearby subdivision and greenery that hemmed in these two story homes. The chopper drew closer as did cars with flashing lights. The bushes and trees called to him. He darted off Route 66, and soon discovered this greenery was a thin barrier against the outside world. His mind worked fast, swiftly abandoning any thoughts of peace and solace in these environs.
As the chopper lowered, Hawg felt the wind of the spinning blades. He loathed the sensation it parceled to his body. The chopper bobbed up and down and Hawg saw the door slide open on the side. Surely, they endeavored to make him skittish by this machine. Though he hated it, he didn’t fear it. Hawg scanned the long hedge and the home beyond. The flashing cars closed in and the biker changed his course in the distance.
Hawg leapt over the short hedge like a stallion, and into the back yard of an elderly lady. He skidded to a stop near the edge of an empty rectangle of concrete. The old woman sat in a wicker chair, coffee on a glass table, newspaper in her hand. The radio on the table spoke, but Hawg didn’t pay any attention to it. Her eyes blinked and the old woman made no sudden exit, not even when the chopper lowered and grew closer to her back yard.
Hawg gawked up at the chopper and bellowed. With the side door open, he saw the man in a dark uniform stare at him. He could smell the man’s terror, even if he held a long weapon in his hands. Hawg seized the edges of the table, but then thought better of his plan. He looked at the house and saw something higher up that appealed to him.
The woman never screamed as Hawg left her and jumped onto the wooden latticework on the side of the house. He climbed several feet before it broke, sending him crashing back to the lawn. Angry with himself, Hawg jumped high, grabbing the gutter of the porch. He then pulled himself up to the roof of the small side porch before repeating this motion on the main roof of the house.
Unsure why the fool in the chopper hadn’t shot at him yet, Hawg closed in on his prey. His hooves skidded on the shingles, but he stabbed in, getting good footing. The screams of the flashing cars drew close as the first cracks echoed from the chopper. Hawg felt the heat of the shot as the man missed him. The chopper bobbed, up and down, not wanting to get close enough for the beast to leap at them. Hawg understood they’d keep a fair distance. That’s why he grabbed the small satellite dish and ripped it from its moorings.
He saw the horror in the face of the shooter above him just before Hawg twisted in his motion. Hawg heaved the dish like a disk, aiming not at the man, but at the swirling blades over his head. The wobbling path of the satellite dish struck true, up near to the focal point of the swirling blades.
Like a hovering kite yanked by a child, the chopper jerked, twisted around and sputtered. The man with the rifle fell out of the rising machine and landed over the peak of the house. The chopper didn’t stay up long. With a single low scraping sound, the machine coughed, rose up and fell like a stone. It crashed beyond the hedge and into the back yard of the next home, taking out a glassed in porch in the process.
Hawg exalted his arms and roared, staring for a moment at the man lying across the peak of the home, facing up. The man never budged as Hawg drew nearer to him on the roof. Only the man’s eyes moved as Hawg took hold of him.
When he glared over the side of the house, several flashing vehicles entered the driveway. Hawg flicked the man off the house with a casual action of his claws, sending the paralyzed body onto the top of a flashing SUV. Hawg expected the windows to break from the man’s impact, but was disappointed. With a sigh, Hawg leapt off the roof and landed where he planned…on the stomach of the man he had just heaved off the roof. The guts and spine of this trooper cushioned the hooves as his body crashed into the roof of the Miller’s Fork police SUV. Glass shattered and the roof bent in from Hawg’s impact. Cart wheeling off the SUV, Hawg’s tusks drew in as the arm extended from the driver’s side of the SUV. Tusks out of the way, Hawg quickly bit into the forearm of the policeman aiming at him. The gun went off, but the bullets only injured trees. Hawg tore loose the meat from the bone, chewing and savoring a fast meal. So hungry from his run, he wished he had time to engorge himself, but this would not be the case. The walls closed in and too many sirens screamed close. Hawg bolted back the way he came, happy he eluded the flying machine. He glanced at the wreckage of that thing, smoking in the yard next to the old woman, who still sat with a paper on her lap, watching.
Hawg sprinted in the ditch beside the Route and was a few hundred yards away before his ears picked up the uneven bark of the biker. When Hawg jumped up the side of the road, the biker came into view. He saw him on the edge of the highway, looking at the commotion in the distance. Hawg heard his cry and felt his terror as he saw him again. The bike’s wheels screamed and the machine swung around.
Hawg went after him as the city receded. He would have him. Before the day was done, Hawg would see him die.
***
Andrew retrieved the guns, the flannel shirt and a bottle of water from his truck. Micki Wingler, he mused. The smart-mouthed, wild-assed preacher’s daughter. Who woulda thunk it! With a few shop rags from the truck, he cleaned off her brutalized face, and then offered her the water and the rags to try to regulate herself.
She gulped the water, spit some out, and then drank it slowly.
After she put the shirt on, Micki clung to Andrew. He held her as gently as he could, for as she embraced him, she cried. All of it came out, the story about being left for dead by her lover, one she never named, and then the beast attacking her, over and over.
“I have to call you some help,” he said, no longer caring about the plot to kill Hawg.
She looked at the stone markers, then at the tiny one that popped out of the ground. This read BABY and made her cry out, “God, don’t let me be carrying that thing’s kid.”
“It’ll all be okay now,” Andrew assured her, not caring if he lied. “But I gotta call the ambula
nce. I don’t care what the plan is with Hux.”
“Hux?” she spat the word. Lips quivering and eyes widening, Micki demanded, “What do you mean?”
Andrew held Wilma’s phone, but never pressed any buttons as he said, “Hux and I are trapping this damned thing, this rotten Hawg, here. He’s leading it back here right now. We gotta go.”
Before he pressed a button, Micki leapt from his side and started to run. She screamed, full of terror at the idea of Hawg returning.
Unfortunately, she ran right toward the pit.
He was up fast and pursued. Right about then, he was glad he didn’t plant the claymores in the graveyard randomly as he first thought. Andrew shouted for her to stop but she never did. Her steps were short and uneven, though. Micki’s body in so much pain, her flight didn’t last long, but she made the edge of the pit as Andrew leapt to catch her. He grabbed Micki’s thighs as she went to rush over the edge. She hung over the expanse, in his grasp, staring into the oblivion offered by the knives, implements and explosive charges spread all around. A spider web of thin wires criss-crossed the opening at about the height of the tallest blade, insuring that Hawg would trip the grenades Andrew rigged up in the pit.
Andrew yanked her close, pulling her out of the hole. “Don’t do that again, you hear me? None of this is easy for me, either.”
She wailed, hands grabbing at Andrew’s t-shirt. “Can’t let it get me again. Never, ever again.”
“I won’t. We gotta go…” his voice trailed off as his head rose. Micki’s did too, her eyes blinked once, tears ready to fall.
They heard the sound of straight pipes up the highway and slowing near them. They both comprehended that Hux was coming in fast.
When the Harley shifted, they also heard a steady set of grunts. A ripple of terror traveled across Micki’s body, akin to one shaking out a rug.
Eyes set on the direction of the entrance, Andrew mumbled, “They’re here.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN Reckoning
When the reverberation of the Harley echoed out across the expansive graveyard, letting them know Hux’s literal arrival was moments away, Doug pulled Micki back toward the set of crypts.
“C’mon, we have to get back away from here.” But once he had Micki to her feet, Andrew ran to his truck. Determined to do the act alone, he pulled out a long roll of greenish canvas. As he ran back toward the trap, Andrew let it unravel behind him. Micki grabbed the edge of the tarp and got in line with his plan. Hurriedly, they pulled the cover over the top of the pit.
“That won’t fool anyone,” she said in a mousy voice as Andrew took her by the forearm and pulled her away from the area.
“It doesn’t have to, but it’s close enough for jazz.” Andrew unhanded her as he saw Micki wince to his touch. “Sorry, I never meant to….” But he waved at her fast, pointing between the crypts of his family and that of Mr. Solow. “Hux sounds like he’s revving up at the entrance, goading the Hawg in.”
“Hux…” she said as they stepped around to the backside of the crypts. Her eyes looked toward the sound as if she could see what transpired many yards away. She then stared at Andrew. “What are you doing?”
On his knees, Andrew opened a couple long cases. He took out a semi-automatic machine gun, checked its ammo, and then tossed it between the crypts. He then took up another machine gun, did an ammo check, and slung it over his right shoulder. He stuffed a small revolver in the back of his pants and then made sure the sawed off shotguns were ready.
“If I’m going to die,” Andrew said with a smile, holding up two hand grenades. “It isn’t going to be pretty. I’ve spent a lifetime gathering up this stuff and playing soldier, sweetheart. Now, it’s time to fuckin’ fight.”
While Micki wrung her hands, she looked back at the direction the roar came from. “Give me a gun.”
Andrew focused on her face, then looked at her shaky hands.
The bellow of the beast resounded in their ears and she screamed, “You have to give me a gun! I’ll kill myself before I let that thing have me again.”
Andrew took a sawed off shotgun, showed her where the safety was, and instructed her to get in-between the crypts. “Get in, hon. I’ll go along the outside side. I doubt Hawg can fit into the gap. If he tries, just blow his fucking face off.”
She nodded, squatted down and grabbed Andrew’s arm as he started to back away from her. “You afraid?”
Andrew half smiled and winked. “Shittin’ my pants, sweetheart. I’ll change later.”
He crept around the side of the Solow crypt like he was out on maneuvers again. As the Harley roared, obviously in motion, Andrew wondered if he unconsciously put himself away from the high explosives in his own crypt. He stepped out, scooped up the trigger switch grip and started to back up for cover.
Andrew stopped for a moment as he saw Hux swing around into view in the distance. The ass end of his Harley fishtailed, but the biker was clearly grinning as he acted. Not twenty yards behind him leapt Hawg into view, moving on his all fours. Up on hind legs for a moment, the beast bellowed and dropped down, in hot pursuit of the laughing biker.
Andrew shook for a moment, enough to rattle his teeth, but screwed down his courage. He knelt beside the crypt, and brought down the machine gun from his shoulder. “Come get some, schvine-hundt,” Andrew grunted, using his German grandmother’s expression for pig-dog..
Hux howled like a wild man as he weaved on and off the gravel path in the larger part of the graveyard. Hawg kept after him, following the course Hux took. At one point, the beast mounted up on a huge brown stone and took a sprawling leap. Hux never knew the creature nearly caught him. Hawg missed, spun, but set his hooves to running and was back to the pursuit, relentless.
Andrew sank back as they both passed near to where they hid. Hawg never looked at the pick up truck as they raced past the tarp-covered pit.
“They missed it,” he heard Micki exclaim.
“Shush over there, for God’s sake,” Andrew yelled as Hux looped around the other end of the graveyard. “Hux knows what he’s doing.”
Hawg planted his back feet and stood, trying to pivot and cut off Hux as he turned and started his track through the cemetery once more. Hux had to lean back to avoid the claw that swiped at him, but his laughter filled the air along with the roar of his cycle and the anger of the beast. Again, the pursuit was on.
“Hux,” Andrew heard Micki say.
Andrew didn’t know why she was muttering the name over there, and hoped she wouldn’t expose them before the trap was sprung. As Hux rumbled back toward the tarp, Andrew had a vision of the beast getting after Micki between the crypts. Maybe she is what they needed, for he’d have no trouble shooting the creature if his head was in-between the crypts.
Hux thundered on, making right for the edge of the tarp. He couldn’t open it up all the way in the close quarters of the cemetery, but seemed to relish the challenge of dodging the stones and controlling the metal monster between his legs.
Hawg was right behind him, only a couple of yards away.
Andrew leveled his machine gun, wishing he had a clear shot at Hawg and his machine gun was more accurate.
Micki lowered her shotgun just as they neared the tarp.
She pulled both triggers.
While such a gun couldn’t kill much of anything at such a distance, the spray from the barrels hit its target full on.
The left side of Hux’s face turned to a bloody mess and his arm jerked up, off the break on the handlebars to hold on his exiting scalp. His speed increased and the bike wobbled before it wrenched with a fatal twist. The bike jerked, corkscrewed down and sent its rider airborne, ass over elbows, and straight onto the green tarp.
The Harley twirled over and Hawg pulled up from his pursuit, slowed, and then stopped. He watched the biker fly through the air and hit the canvas covering. Hux screamed as he fell into the pit, then his loud voice shunted. A sudden cry went out, but it was wet, bubbly, and weak. Then, Andrew’s han
diwork with the wires came home to roost. A series of small explosions sent Hawg to his backside as fire and debris leapt out of the trap. Shards of the implements, dirt and pieces of Hux belched from the ground in the ejecta cloud from the explosions. Andrew swore he saw a hand and a ponytail leap up and fall.
Andrew watched. He could do nothing else. He saw Hawg turn from his backside, adjust his tail, and then cautiously creep toward the edge of the pit. Hawg sniffed the edges of the crater, peered in and smelled more. The sunlight off Hawg’s tusks made Andrew want to piss his pants.
Then, Hawg rose up and looked right at him. Red eyes scanning, Andrew figured Hawg spotted Micki in the crypts. She was so dead, he thought, having used up her shots on Hux.
Andrew brought the gun up and squeezed the trigger. His spray of bullets from the magazine struck all around Hawg, but he soon nailed the beast at last. Hawg dropped down, but only to run. Blood had sprung from the creature’s right hip, left upper pectoral muscle and his left forearm. The beast moved forward, but not at Andrew directly.
As Andrew stepped out from the crypt, he aimed better and fired again. Another stream of bullets hit near Hawg, then struck home, a few slugs causing founts of blood to spatter away from the creature’s right shin and the left side of his face. Andrew paused, pleased that he thought he took Hawg’s left ear off. That moment allowed Hawg to complete his mission. He grabbed the tiny marker in the ground, the one labeled BABY and ripped it up. Hawg kept in motion, slicing away from Andrew and the bullets, Hawg launched the stone marker at him. The object came in like a fastball. Andrew tried to move, but the marker deflected off his left forearm.
Pain shot through his body and he could hardly close his left hand. Unsure if the projectile broke his arm, he grabbed a flash grenade off the ground. The beast corrected his path and came right at Andrew. Grenade between his legs, Andrew yanked the pin and lobbed it. No sooner did the grenade hit the ground than it exploded into a brilliant glow. Hawg was going so fast, he screamed at this irritation and at the concussion of the flash grenade on his lower body. This shock was all that saved Andrew from an impact with the beast. He sidestepped the creature and then shoulder rolled into the grass.
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