“Contact!” Sergeant Dickerson screamed at the soldiers milling around the library among the shelves of books. Everyone was rushing forward to join the battle as Stiles did his best to hold the monsters back on his own with the M249. He heard Sergeant Dickerson smash out a window next to the one he was at, firing burst after burst at the monsters with his M-16. Lewis had started shooting too. Their combined fire downed several of the Sasquatch. The bodies of the things lay in the street and the grass of the small yard in front of the library as the other monsters continued to push forward.
A Sasquatch took God only knew how many rounds as it ran up to the window Stiles was at. By the time the thing reached him, its upper body was a mess of blood-soaked fur and mangled flesh. The monster stood directly in front of the M249’s barrel, its body jerking about as every round the machine gun fired tore into it, digging a hole through it. The Sasquatch slumped over, dead, but it had done its job. By blocking his fire, the thing had allowed the others to close in on them. Stiles screamed as a hair-covered hand closed on the barrel of the M249 and jerked it out of his grasp. It swept the 17-pound gun through the air like a club, bashing it into the side of Lewis’ helmet next to him. Lewis was rocked sideways by the blow and flopped to sprawl out unconscious on the floor. Stiles fell over onto his butt trying to escape from the raging monster, shuffling awkwardly on his back away from it.
A firing line had formed up several yards back from the library’s window and almost everyone who hadn’t been at the building’s rear guarding the door there had joined it. Sergeant Dickerson died screaming as one of the Sasquatch yanked him through the window he had been firing through outside and stomped him to death on the ground.
Evans, Motter, Lancaster, and Dolan were on their way to join the firing line as the Sasquatch came flooding into the library. They had torn away its front door and burst through its frame, splintering the wood there against their too-wide, muscle-bound shoulders. Other Sasquatch were coming in through the windows. One monster even tore its way directly through a section of the wall.
“Fall back!” someone on the line was yelling over and over as the Sasquatch continued to press forward.
“Forget it!” Dolan yelled, grabbing Evans and stopping him from moving up to the line. “We need to run!”
Evans’ head jerked around, looking at the group he was with. Motter and Lancaster were already sprinting back the way they had come. Dolan let loose of him and ran after them. Evans heard a fellow guardsman that was part of the firing line crying out as one of the Sasquatch knocked his head from his shoulders with a vicious backhanded blow. Blood exploded out of what remained of the man’s mangled neck as his headless body flopped to the floor. The heavy cacophony of M-16 fire was already dying out and becoming sporadic, replaced by the screaming of dying soldiers.
Whirling about, Evans fled. His legs pumped beneath him, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he pushed himself to his limits. There was gunfire coming from the library’s rear too as he raced toward it. As Evans rounded the corner that led to the building’s back door, he saw the monsters had gotten in there too. He skidded to a halt, unsure of what to do next.
“This way!” Lancaster yelled at him.
Evans saw her drop out one of the building’s side windows. Through it, he could see Motter and Dolan already ahead of her, running away into the night. Evans leaped out of the window after her onto the grass. Catching up to Lancaster and the others, he grimaced as a Sasquatch appeared out of the night in their path. Dolan was the first to fire on the creature. Two well-placed bursts pulped the thing’s eyes in their sockets. The Sasquatch wailed as it lashed out, arms flailing about in the hopes of hitting one of them as they raced by it. Its claws swiped empty air though. None of them were foolish enough to get anywhere near the creature.
Motter was in the lead as the group changed direction, heading for what looked to be a nearby garage. One of its large doors was up and open, a car sitting just inside it, hood raised. They all darted into the garage and closed its door behind them. Closing the door left them in total darkness as it blocked out the moonlight. Dolan struck a match, using it to light the whole pack he had fished out of his pocket.
“Somebody find us some light,” he ordered.
“Is that really a good idea?” Motter argued.
“Those doors are metal,” Dolan pointed out. “No way those things are going to see anything we do in here.”
“Yeah but they can hear us,” Evans spoke up, reminding everyone to keep it quiet.
“And maybe smell us too.” Lancaster frowned in the dim light of the pack of matches that burned in Dolan’s hand.
“Found a door,” Motter called out.
“Where does it lead to?” Dolan asked.
“How the frag should I know?” Motter spat back at him and flung the door open. Moonlight spilled inside the garage from the office area the door opened into.
“Looks like where they did their paperwork and accounting,” Lancaster commented, walking by Motter into the small room. It only had one window, high up on the wall behind the desk that sat in its center.
Everyone pressed into the room, closing its door. The door wouldn’t last a heartbeat against an angry Sasquatch but it was still one more barrier between them and the monsters that were likely lurking somewhere outside the garage.
“Hey! There’s a landline,” Motter exclaimed, picking up the phone to try it. He put it down, frowning. “It’s dead.”
“Anybody got an idea of what we should do now?” Evans asked. “If those things get in here, we’re dead. There’s nowhere to run to in this place.”
“We could use a car,” Lancaster said. “There were three in the garage back there.”
“Yeah and what are the odds that any of them run?” Dolan huffed. “Trying to crank one of them up to test it will bring those things crashing in on us for sure.”
“Man’s got a point,” Motter agreed. “I say we hole up here for a few, heck, maybe even until the sun comes up then we would be home free. Sergeant Dickerson said our reinforcements should be here by then.”
“And if they aren’t?” Lancaster asked.
“Or those things find us before then?” Dolan added.
“We can’t stay here,” Evans muttered to himself than anyone else though the others heard him.
“There has to be another exit,” Dolan said.
“You want to go hunting for it in the dark?” Motter challenged him.
“Hey,” Lancaster spoke up. She had been rifling through the drawers of the desk. “I found a flashlight.”
She tossed it to Dolan. He snatched it out of the air and clicked it on to make sure it worked. It did.
The group headed back into the garage with Dolan leading them. There was another door on the far side. They gathered near it, listening for sounds of the Sasquatch outside it.
“You guys ready?” Dolan asked, shutting off the flashlight and shoving it into his belt.
“No,” Evans answered honestly.
“Too bad,” Dolan said and jerked the door open. Moonlight flooded the garage. The door led out of it into a rear parking lot behind the building. “Let’s move!”
****
Cato and Tim had been on the move for over half an hour. They crept through the dark streets of Canton, doing their best to avoid any encounters with the monstrous beasts that prowled them. So far, their luck had held out. They had no real destination that they were headed for. The two of them were merely searching for signs of anyone else left alive.
The town’s school lay ahead of them. Cato’s heart quickened inside his chest as he saw its main doors. He motioned for Tim to stop and take cover. Moving off the road that they were traveling on, the two of them ducked into the bushes at its edge. It was a poor cover against monsters that called the woods home but it was what was at hand.
“You seeing what I am seeing?” Cato asked the old man.
“Somebody had moved the buses around to seal up the doo
rs to the gym.” Tim nodded.
“More than just that.” Cato grinned. “Take a look at the windows on that side of the building.”
“Frag me,” Tim said, chuckling. “Somebody has covered them up from the inside.”
Cato felt like kicking himself. In times of real disaster, the school was often used as a place to run to and find shelter. Clearly, someone else had remembered that.
“What do you say we take a stroll over there and introduce ourselves, my boy?” Tim smirked.
Cato and Tim emerged from the bushes they had been using for cover and crept toward the school, using the cars in its lot as cover, moving from one to the next. There was another, smaller door not far from those sealed off by the parked buses. As they neared it, Cato heard the unmistakable sound of a rifle being readied. Standing straight up from where he crouched behind the hood of a Toyota, he held his hands over his head.
“Don’t shoot!” Cato called out. “We’re human!”
Tim remained where he was, waiting to see how things played out, the barrel of his AK-47 leveled at the school’s side door.
“Put down your guns!” someone ordered from near the door.
“Henson?” Tim called out. “That you?”
“Tim?” a startled reply came as an old man dressed in a Vietnam-style, green military jacket emerged from the shadows holding a .30-06 rifle.
Deputy Cato watched as Tim rose from his cover and walked up to Henson. The two of them embraced.
“As I live and breathe,” Henson exclaimed. “I figured you would be barricaded up in that fortress of yours waiting for things to blow over.”
“Things didn’t quite work out like that.” Tim laughed.
“We had best get inside,” Henson told them. “Those things have tried to get into the school twice already tonight. Lost some good men keeping them out too.”
“How many survivors do you have in there, sir?” Deputy Cato asked.
“There’s about a dozen of us left, Deputy,” Henson answered. “Come on. I will take you to them.”
Tim led them into the school. Another man Cato recognized as Warren Eagle took Tim’s place outside the door as they went in. Cato nodded at him as Eagle stared in disbelief at him.
“Glad to see you alive, Deputy,” Eagle told him.
The school’s gym had been converted into a living space for the handful of survivors. There were cots sat up in it and two tables that contained food, coffee, and drinks. Most of the survivors were women and children. Other than Henson and Eagle, Cato only saw two other men. One was Burt Jenkins and the other Trent Taylor. Burt was a burly little man who owned the town’s garage. Brent was a tall, thin fellow who worked for the game commission. Both of them were glad to see other people showing up.
“We were beginning to think the entire rest of the town was dead out there,” Burt said.
“We ain’t had anyone else show up in hours,” Trent confirmed.
“Of course there used to be more of us.” Burt’s expression was sad. “Hank Beams and John Clinton got killed by those things trying to keep them out of here earlier tonight.”
“Those things carried off John’s body but we were able to save Hank’s. Got it stashed away in one of the locker rooms so the kids won’t see it,” Trent told them.
“Just how bad is it out there, Tim?” Henson asked.
“Bad,” Tim answered.
“Worse than you could likely imagine,” Deputy Cato said, backing Tim up.
“I don’t know about that, son,” Henson sneered. “I was in ‘Nam. I can imagine some pretty dark crap.”
“Been listening to the radio chatter out there thanks to Mr. Henson,” Burt said. “From what we’ve heard, the National Guard is trying to get into town but they’ve lost five units of men so far and the rest of them are still being bogged down by blocked-off roads and random attacks by those creatures.”
“From what we can tell, one unit made it into town but we haven’t heard any more out of them since they called in for evac. And got denied it.” Henson frowned. “God only knows where those guys are now.”
“The Guard is making a big push at dawn,” Trent said. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and they will make it through to us.”
“Where did you get a radio that could pick up military chatter?” Deputy Cato asked.
“Ripped it out of a patrol car I stumbled onto as I was headed here,” Henson admitted. “Had to tinker with it some but I got it working enough to where we can listen in but we can’t send anything out.”
“A patrol car?” Cato stared at the old vet.
Henson grunted. “Yeah, Deputy. One of yours. Hate to be the one tell you if you didn’t know but the sheriff is dead.”
Cato felt like someone had punched him in the gut as Henson’s words sunk in. It was hard to believe that Sheriff Wallace was gone. He had always looked up to her despite their disagreements. The woman was as tough as they came.
“Help yourself to some food if you want it,” Henson told them. “Got some coffee over there too. You guys look like you could use some.”
“Thanks,” Tim said and headed for where the tables were set up and helped himself to a huge cup of the offered coffee.
Cato shook his head. “I can’t believe the sheriff is gone. Are you sure it was her car?”
“I’m sorry, Deputy, but I am sure. If it helps any, the woman looked to have put up one heck of a fight,” Henson assured him.
Trying to think about anything else other than Wallace being dead, Cato focused on getting down to the business of making sure everyone in the gym stayed alive until help could reach them.
“I see you’ve blocked off the main door with those buses. That was a smart move,” Cato said. “And you’ve got a man outside too.”
“Yep.” Henson took a fat cigar out of his pants pocket and lit it up. “We’ve secured this place as best we can. Every door between the front of the school and the gym is locked up, some of them even chained. None of those things have tried to come at us from that side of the building yet though. They seem to know exactly where we are in here so all their attacks from come from the same parking lot you guys came through to get in here.”
“How are you doing on ammo?” Cato asked.
Henson scowled at him. “We’re a pretty dang tight spot there, Deputy. I got about seven rounds left for this.” The old vet patted the side of the .30-06 he was carrying. “Everybody else is down to their last rounds too. I was hoping Tim could solve that problem though.”
“Can’t help you there,” Tim said with a grunt, walking up to them with his coffee in one hand and his AK-47 in the other. “I had a whole load with me but it’s been a rough night. Lost part of it and used a good bit more myself. I’ve only got this rifle and two magazines for it left.”
Henson looked Tim over. “So those pistols you’re wearing ain’t loaded then?”
“Wasn’t counting them.” Tim frowned. “They ain’t worth squat against those monsters. Their muscle density is too great to get any real penetration with them.”
“Yeah.” Henson nodded, frowning. “We found that out too ourselves…the hard way.”
“You have anybody on the roof?” Tim asked. “Having a sniper lookout up there would be a good idea.”
“You’re right.” Henson looked like he wanted to slap his own forehead. “I hadn’t thought of that. There’s been so much to do here… I’m too old for this sort of crap.”
“I’ll do it,” Cato volunteered. “But I want that rifle of yours.”
“That’s fine by me,” Henson nodded, “as long as you leave me that AR-15 you’re carrying.”
They traded weapons, Cato handing over his extra magazines too.
“You need someone to show the way up?” Henson asked.
Cato shook his head. “Nah. I can find it.”
“Be nice if we had some radios,” Henson commented.
“If only I hadn’t been forced to blow up my Conquest…” Tim sighed.
&
nbsp; Henson was about to ask what had happened but Cato stopped him. “Don’t. Just don’t get him started on that again. Trust me.”
Henson snorted and changed the subject. “You guys figured out how many of those things there are yet?”
“Too many.” Cato shrugged. “No idea where they all came from either.”
“Guess that meme about Sasquatch being the world’s best hide and seek player is true,” Tim joked.
“Or maybe the evidence was there the whole time and we just didn’t want to see it,” Cato said, thinking of Sheriff Wallace and what it had taken to convince her that Bigfoot was real.
“You could be right about that,” Henson agreed. “I know I never would have believed anything like this crap was possible until it happened.”
“Get on up to the roof, Deputy boy,” Tim urged Cato. “Us old-timers have got things covered down here.”
“Yes, sir.” Cato grinned and left the gym.
****
Motter, Lancaster, Dolan, and Evans had escaped the garage they had been holed up in. Their flight through town had taken them westward, sticking to the shadows and creeping along in order to avoid the random beasts that prowled the streets of Canton. All of them were tired but stopping wasn’t an option according to Dolan. The way he saw things, holing up anywhere was a very bad idea. If the creatures found them, they ran the risk of being trapped wherever they took shelter. They had left the main road and were keeping to the trees in the hopes that the monsters were all out of them and in the streets of the town somewhere.
“Hey, man!” Motter called out to Dolan as the soldiers moved through the trees. “Check that out!”
They all came to a stop as Motter pointed at a large building in the distance. “Is that a fragging school?”
“Looks to be,” Dolan answered.
“Somebody has sealed up the doors to its gym with those buses parked in front of them,” Lancaster said. “That’s some pretty sharp thinking.”
The Guard Page 6