Judgment Day -03

by Arthur Bradley

  “Uh, no.”

  “Me neither. What do you say we double-back and pick up Highway 598?”

  As he started to wheel the truck around, he caught sight of a long string of motorcycle headlights approaching from behind.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he sighed.

  “What?” She spun around. “Oh no, it’s them again.”

  Tanner grabbed his shotgun and the bandolier of ammunition. He stuck the Bearcat in the back of his waistband and the Kahr PM9 in his front pocket.

  “Come on,” he said. “We’ve got to get out of sight.”

  “But where?” Samantha asked, scrambling out of the truck with her rifle, and staring up at the steep slopes that rose along both sides of the road.

  Tanner looked toward the tunnel.

  “Please, no,” she pleaded. “It’s so dark.”

  “I’d rather take my chance in the dark than with twenty pissed-off bikers. Come on.”

  He took off for the tunnel, and after hesitating for a moment, Samantha followed. They ran about thirty yards into the tunnel and took cover behind a car.

  “It smells awful in here,” she said, trying to talk without breathing through her nose.

  He took a deep sniff.

  “It’s not so bad.”

  She wrinkled her nose up.

  “It smells like—”

  “Dead bodies?”

  She nodded. “Lots and lots of them.”

  He couldn’t argue the point. There were several hundred cars in the tunnel, most of which had bodies either in or near them. There were enough cadavers to fill a small graveyard.

  The sound of engines grew louder, and they peeked up over the top of the car to get a better look. The gang came to stop a few feet outside the tunnel. Once again, they started revving their engines for a little fun. The noise echoed down the tunnel, vibrating windows. When they finally tired of the game, they killed their engines and pulled off their helmets to enjoy a few cigarettes.

  Samantha pointed toward the man wearing the distinctive Predator helmet.

  “It’s him,” she whispered.

  Tanner nodded. “He and I have unfinished business.”

  “Do you think they’ll come in after us?”

  “Nah. They probably didn’t even see us.”

  Predator slipped off his helmet and set it on the seat behind him. The man’s huge mustache and sideburns were almost as distinctive as his helmet. He glanced around, and his eyes settled on the old pickup that Tanner had been driving.

  “It’s just an old truck,” whispered Tanner. “Let it be.”

  Ignoring his silent suggestion, Predator dismounted, walked over to it, and placed a hand on the hood. Alarmed, he slowly spun in a full circle, searching the area, his eyes finally settling on the tunnel. He shouted something to his men, and they scrambled for their weapons.

  “They know we’re here,” Tanner said softly.

  A horrific scream suddenly sounded from deep inside the tunnel. It was inhuman, like the sound a grizzly might make if its foot had been caught in a steel jaw-trap.

  Samantha flinched and grabbed Tanner’s arm.

  “What was that?” she whispered.

  He looked over his shoulder, peering into the darkness.

  “I think they woke something up.”

  “Something? Not someone?”

  He shrugged. “It sounded more like a something.”

  Still clutching his arm, she said, “When I was little, my mom used to read stories to me—Curious George, Pippi Longstocking, Winnie the Pooh—kid’s stuff, you know?”

  “And?”

  “And I remember that, in one story, there was a creature so terrible that even its name made everyone shake with fear. It was called the Backson.” She shivered, pointing down into the dark tunnel. “That scream is what I imagine a Backson would sound like.”

  “Whatever it is, I agree that it’s probably trouble. But that,” he said, pointing at the bandits who were slowly approaching the tunnel, “is most definitely trouble.”

  She sighed. “We’re between a rock and a hard place.”

  “A what?”

  “A rock and a hard place. It means both options are bad.”

  “I know what it means,” he said, grinning. “I was just surprised that you got it right.”

  She cut her eyes at him.

  “So? What are we going to do?”

  “We do like we always do,” he said. “We pick the hard place.”

  The tunnel was so dark that it was more like an abandoned iron mine than a passage for interstate travelers. The floor sloped down, and until they got to the bottom, it would be impossible to see the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel.

  A thunderous boom sounded from inside the tunnel entrance. They glanced back and saw Predator standing on the hood of an abandoned car. He held Tanner’s .44 Magnum revolver above his head like a sign of his manhood.

  “Come on out, or we’re coming in to get you.”

  Tanner considered taking a shot at him but decided he was probably out of range of the sawed-off shotgun, and most certainly out of range of either pistol. He could use Samantha’s rifle, but it didn’t seem worth the risk of giving away their position. Right now, Predator only suspected that someone was in the tunnel. Besides, thought Tanner, he was probably bluffing about coming in after them. Better to heed Samantha’s advice and walk away whenever possible.

  Daylight shone in from the entrance, but it only reached twenty or thirty yards into the tunnel. Tanner figured that he and Samantha had already disappeared into the darkness, but just to be sure, he continued another twenty yards in before standing up to give his legs a rest.

  “We’re clear,” he said softly.

  Samantha slowly stood up.

  “Do you think they’ll come in after us?”

  He was about to reassure her that they wouldn’t when he saw Predator and three of his men enter the tunnel.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “They’ll never find us in here.”

  He turned around to look deeper into the tunnel. It was complete and total darkness. If they were to have any hope of making it to the other side, they would need to feel their way forward. His biggest concern was losing Samantha.

  Tanner looked around and saw the body of a man crumpled against the wall of the tunnel. He hurried over and unlaced one of the dead man’s boots.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered.

  He tied one end of the shoestring to his belt loop and the other end to one of hers.

  “Keep the string taut, and don’t lose your pants.”

  “Lose my pants?”

  “Just stating the obvious.”

  “You are so weird sometimes.”

  “It’s why we get along so well. Now, come on.”

  Samantha stayed a few feet behind him as they slowly delved deeper into the tunnel. Before long, they were no longer able to see one other. They could hear each other breathe, or bump into a car, or stumble over a dead body, but everything was now surrounded by impenetrable darkness.

  “I can’t see my hand in front of my face,” she said, her voice trembling.

  “What do you need to see your hand for? You planning on doing your nails?”

  She chuckled. “Now, that’s funny.”

  They heard Predator stumble and fall. He cursed loudly and fired a shot down the tunnel.

  “We aren’t giving up!” he yelled. “My men are already on their way to the other side. Even if you do get out, they’ll be waiting.”

  “We’re trapped,” she said, pulling lightly on the string between them.

  “Not hardly.”

  “But he said—”

  “Don’t sweat it. Even a one-legged Viet Cong with cataracts could set up an ambush in this tunnel. If he follows us down to the bottom, I’ll deal with him.”

  She seemed to gain strength from his confidenc
e.

  “Okay.”

  Tanner extended his hands about a foot in front of his face and took small, careful steps, as he proceeded ahead. He could live with knocking a shin against a bumper but didn’t want to whack his nose into a side view mirror. Whenever he felt the cold metal of a car or truck, he moved sideways along the body, alternating going left and right with each vehicle, in the hopes that it kept him moving forward. Even so, traversing through a pitch-black tunnel filled with vehicles facing in every possible direction was a very slow process. He estimated that it would take them at least two hours to get to the other side of the mile-long tunnel. His only consolation was that once they got to where they could see the light shining in from the exit, it should go a little faster.

  Tanner heard something move ahead of them. It sounded like a roll of carpet being dragged across the ground. He stopped, and Samantha bumped into him.

  “What is it?” she whispered.

  “Shh.” He reached around and pushed her down, squatting beside her with his shotgun pointing in the direction of the sound.

  A large shape moved past them in the dark. It was on the other side of the tunnel, close to the wall, but it stunk like the walking dead.

  After it passed, she whispered, “Was that a Backson?”

  He felt of her face so that he could put his mouth close to her ear.

  “I don’t think we want to find out. Let’s keep moving, real quiet like. No more talking.”

  He felt her head nod gently up and down. Turning, he continued ahead, hurrying as fast as he dared.

  Less than a minute later, horrible screams sounded from behind them—men being torn apart, shrieking like children who had awoken to discover that Dracula was not only real, but leaning over their bed. The boom of Predator’s pistol sounded once, and then… nothing.

  Tanner felt the string pull taut as Samantha stopped in her tracks. He was afraid to pull it too hard for fear of it coming free of one of their belt loops.

  “Come on,” he whispered, his impatience growing. What was she doing? They had to move!

  “It’ll come for us too,” she said. There was a finality to her words. “We can’t outrun it. Not in this darkness. It’ll catch us.”

  He started to argue with her, to explain that he couldn’t fight something he couldn’t see. Then, as hard as it was to accept, he realized that she was right. It would catch them. And it would kill them.

  “You know what?” he said, turning around. “You’re right.”

  “I don’t want to be right.”

  “I know you don’t. But let’s deal with what we’ve got.”

  “How? We can’t see!”

  Neither of them saw a reason to whisper any longer, and their voices were slowly rising.

  “All right,” he said. “Let’s change that.”

  Tanner felt around for the nearest car and ripped open the door. A cloud of blowflies buzzed across his face, and he batted them aside as he leaned in. He felt around until he found the knob that turned on the headlights. As soon he pulled the knob, bright beams blasted out through the darkness.

  Samantha covered her eyes, blinded.

  “It’ll see us!” she cried.

  “It already sees us. This way we can see it too. Ready yourself.”

  Samantha turned her back to the lights and brought up her rifle.

  Tanner yanked the shoe lace from his belt loop, raced to another car, and clicked on its headlights. They were much dimmer than the first but still added some light to the mix.

  They both saw a large shadowy figure shuffling toward them. It was huge and indistinguishable, like some mythical Shambling Mound that had crawled out of the swamp.

  Tanner leaned through the window of a utility truck and turned on its lights too. The entire area was now lit up, and the light felt protective, like a campfire on a starless night.

  “To me!” he shouted to Samantha.

  She backed toward him, her eyes never leaving the creature that was approaching. It was maybe fifty yards away and moving steadily through the blockade of cars toward them.

  “It’s coming!” she shouted.

  “Let it come,” he said, bringing the shotgun to his shoulder. He had five shots. There would be no reloading. Either he would kill it or he wouldn’t.

  When it was about thirty yards away, the Backson entered the light. What they saw had two arms, two legs, and a head. But it was not human. Not anymore, it wasn’t. The creature was more like an ogre or a troll, if such things really existed. It was impossibly large, easily weighing five hundred pounds and standing nearly seven feet tall. It had an enormous bald head covered in bulbous blisters, and arms and legs swollen with thick cords of muscles.

  The Backson stopped and stared at them with shiny black eyes, each drizzling long streaks of inky goo. Then it took a step toward them, dragging its feet across the asphalt, as if they were too heavy to lift.

  Tanner pointed the shotgun center mass and squeezed the trigger. The gun belched fire, and a handful of buckshot slammed into the creature’s chest. It screamed in pain and raced forward at a speed he would have never thought possible for something so big. Tanner brought the weapon back down and fired a second burst. It hit the Backson in the left shoulder, blood and skin spraying onto the car behind it. He was just bringing the shotgun back on target for a third shot when it reached him.

  The monster slammed into Tanner, knocking him over the hood of a car and sending the shotgun flying away. The blow was so powerful that he briefly blacked out, and when he awoke, he felt a giant hand pulling him up by his hair.

  There was a small crack of a gunshot. Then another. And another. The creature jerked with each sound. Samantha stood about ten feet behind it, popping .22 slugs into the meat of its back as fast as she could cycle the bolt of her rifle.

  The Backson turned to face her, pulling Tanner around like he was its favorite stuffed animal. Samantha stepped back and lowered her rifle, her face becoming pale.

  “Oh, no, you don’t!” Tanner snarled, tightening his right hand into a fist and punching up into the creature’s groin. Knuckles met nuts, and it shrieked in pain.

  He hit it again, and the Backson flung him toward Samantha.

  Tanner landed near her feet and rolled onto his back.

  “Go for the eyes!” he shouted.

  Samantha suddenly felt like a toddler trying to lift a car. Fear and panic weighed on her arms and legs, making every action feel like she was trying to move through chewing gum. Her only thought was to drop the gun and run. Just run! But even that seemed impossible. She found herself standing motionless, unable to act, staring at a creature that should only belong in storybooks.

  Tanner pulled the Kahr compact pistol from his front pocket, lined it up, and shot the creature in the face. The bullet hit two inches below its right eye, popping a clean hole in the middle of its cheek.

  It charged, screaming with mindless fury. Tanner pumped two more rounds into it in quick procession, and then it was upon him. The Backson’s huge hands beat down on him, cracking a rib and pummeling his left eye. He rolled away barely in time to avoid a tremendous two-handed strike that would surely have killed him.

  The monster chased after him, but it slowed, blood seeping from a dozen wounds. Tanner pushed to his feet and hurled himself forward, driving his shoulder up into the creature’s ribs. It grabbed him, wrapping both hands around his neck. Tanner instinctively did the same, and two struggled to choke the life out of one another.

  Behind the beast, Tanner saw Samantha standing paralyzed, watching their life and death struggle. As tears dripped from his eyes, he desperately wanted to tell her that everything was going to be okay, that there was nothing to be afraid of, that he would kill anything that came for her.

  Tanner drove his thumbs deep into the creature’s windpipe even as he pressed his own chin down to prevent it from doing the same. He felt the Backson’s grip weakening, but he also f
elt his own faltering. A ring of darkness began to close in around him, and he pinpointed on the creature’s eyes—two inky black pools of pure hate. He squeezed with every ounce of strength he had left. And that was enough.

  His thumbs punched through the Backson’s windpipe, and its grip immediately fell away from his throat. The creature’s legs buckled, and Tanner followed it to the ground. He crouched there for a full minute, choking the beast. When he was sure it was dead, he retrieved his shotgun and shot it once through each eye.