The creature’s body convulsed, but Warren could tell that the brain trauma wasn’t enough to completely immobilize it. He threw aside the shotgun and drew the suppressed USP pistol, firing .45 caliber rounds into its head to keep it on the ground as he retrieved a grenade from a pouch on his vest. He stopped shooting just long enough to pull the pin on the grenade then tossed it onto the body as he backpedaled and resumed firing.
The incendiary grenade ignited and soon the creature’s entire body was aflame as the blaze slowly turned the tissue to ash.
Once he was certain that the body was going to burn completely, he moved over to Weise’s body, removed another incendiary grenade from the man’s vest and set him ablaze as well.
“Target is down and the area is clear,” Warren called over the radio. “I’ll need your help down here, one of your guys is pretty banged up. Watch out for those munitions near the door.”
“On my way,” Burchette replied over the radio.
Warren loaded a fresh magazine into his USP, then retrieved his shotgun and UMP before going back to check on Mueller. The man had begun to stir and with Warren’s help was fully conscious by the time Burchette was able to break open a small side door and meet up with them.
He wasn’t sure how Burchette had managed to get down the silo with a section of ladder blown away twenty feet off the ground but he figured the way the man now limped was a good hint.
Mueller was still bleeding from the gashes where the alpha had clawed him but they ignored the wounds and together Mueller and Burchette moved over to where the alpha Crimson’s body was still burning, needing to see firsthand that the mission had been completed and the threat was gone.
Warren stood behind the two men as they watched the fire and quietly drew his suppressed USP. He raised the pistol and fired a round into the back of Burchette’s head, killing the man instantly. Mueller tried to spin around and raise his Mk 48, but his injuries made him slow and his weapon was heavy and unwieldy. Warren pumped two rounds into the man’s chest and a third into his head before he could get a shot off.
He quickly stripped both bodies of any equipment and ammunition that could be useful to him, and then used incendiary grenades from their own kits to burn their bodies. Just as he had noted earlier, the predator was long gone, and there was nobody else there to see what unfolded on the ground. He would report to Strickland that Weise had infected them, and Warren had managed to destroy them both.
Warren believed wholeheartedly in the cause and truly wanted mankind to survive and fight off the undead that were plaguing the world. He didn’t, however, mind killing a few fellow men for the sake of self-preservation.
Standard operating procedure for teams in the field was to kill any carriers identified on sight to prevent any future outbreaks of the alpha strain. Warren was afforded a special status because of his association with General Strickland, but he knew that wouldn’t last forever. One day there would be no more Crimsons to hunt and Warren would become the hunted. He couldn’t afford to have any soldiers who encountered him make it back to friendly lines and report what equipment he carried and how he operated.
When the day arrived that they came hunting for him, he would need every resource possible to ensure his survival, and he didn’t care how many men he had to kill to be certain of that.
Warren wasn’t sure if his actions made him a monster, but if he was honest, he realized that he didn’t really care.
Bats
Derek Muk
The 1974 Ford station wagon with its shiny wood paneled exterior cruised the flat desert highway. The car provided the only sunlit glints in a dry and barren wasteland that stretched for miles. Albert Taylor drove, and remembered the last vehicle they passed was a pickup truck that pulled a trailer with horses in it. But that had been hours ago. Hadn’t seen anything since. The cool air flowing from the car’s vents blew against his sweaty face.
“Want another bottle of water?” Jan asked, sitting next to him.
“No thanks. How you holdin’ up?”
“I’m gonna melt once we get out!” she laughed. “I can’t believe you talked me into going to the desert this time of the year!”
“Oh, c’mon, a little heat isn’t going to kill you. Besides, you always said you wanted to go to the Southwest. You said you liked the artwork and the landscapes here.”
“I wouldn’t say 103 degrees is a little, Professor!” She raked her hand through her shoulder length red hair, brushing it aside. “But you’re right, this area was on my ‘to go’ list. Just gonna have to make the best of it and stay cool.”
He shot her a sly grin. “Fat chance, young lady. You’re gonna melt.”
Jan chuckled, opening a bottle and drinking the ice-cold water, intentionally finishing with an overly loud “ahhhhhhh”. She was a slender woman, dressed in her commonly worn mustard yellow polo shirt and green corduroy pants. She took out a journal and began to make notes.
“Whatcha writin’?” he inquired.
“Oh, just random thoughts and observations.” She looked at him thoughtfully. “I want to remember all this, so that someday, I can open this journal and step back into this exact moment. It’ll be like a time capsule.”
“Or a picture.”
She smiled.
Sheriff Stan Briggs gently kicked the tire of the station wagon, breaking out in a grin. “Boy, haven’t seen one of these in ages. I like your taste in cars, Taylor. And literally in mint condition! But I bet it’s a pain in the ass to find parts for this puppy.”
“Only if you don’t know where to look,” Taylor replied.
“That’s right, it’s all about knowin’ where to look. That’s how I found you. My buddies ribbed me about hiring what they called ‘a new-agey witch doctor.’ No offense.”
“None taken. I understand.”
Briggs folded his muscular arms across his chest. Taylor guessed he was in his early seventies, with snow-white hair, matching mustache, and a slight paunch. He reminded Taylor of the actor, Tom Atkins.
“I felt like I exhausted all the possibilities. So I thought, ‘what the heck?’ Let ‘em laugh at me. I don’t care!”
“That’s the spirit!” Taylor laughed. Jan joined in on the laughter.
“So anyway, here you are in wonderful Sunset Canyon. Which, by the way, used to be a great little town before the murders. I haven’t seen anything like them in thirty five years of law enforcement.” He shook his head. “My buddies in the FBI and other agencies didn’t know what to make of it, either. I didn’t know who else to turn to.”
He stared at Taylor with a defeated expression. Taylor gave him a moment, and the let the sheriff collect himself.
Anyway, as I was saying, everyone knows each other here. Everyone knows what’s going on in other people’s lives. It’s just your typical small town.” The fight came back into his eyes. “We’re gonna get the psychopath that’s responsible. Am I right, folks?”
“That’s the spirit!” Jan cheered.
“Hey, I like your attitude, young lady!” Briggs chimed, smacking her hand with a high-five. “Now, if only my deputies shared the same enthusiasm. Say, wanna apply for a job in the sheriff’s office?”
She laughed, nodding at Taylor. “Sorry, I’m fully committed to being his teaching assistant, co-editor of his magazine, and slave in general.”
“Bold and italicize slave.” Taylor grinned.
“Ahhh, yes, The Occult Files Magazine,” Briggs remarked. “I enjoyed that cover story you did on UFOs.”
“Thanks,” Taylor replied. “What else can you tell us about these murders? What stands out about them?”
Sheriff Briggs led them away from the station wagon, down the quiet small town thoroughfare, to his snug little office. The cool air conditioning inside was a welcome relief from the heat. Briggs introduced them to one of his deputies but the young man didn’t give them eye contact and hurried off.
“Is he part of the friendly town welcoming committee?” Taylo
r asked.
“Sorry about that,” Briggs said, ushering them into his office and closing the door. “Justin shares the same sentiment as my law enforcement buddies. Doesn’t like outsiders comin’ in to do the job.”
“Old-boy club mentality,” Jan quipped. “You need a radical feminist group here. We got plenty of them in Berkeley.” She and Taylor sat in chairs in front of a battered, paper-cluttered desk that had seen better days. The rest of the office was clean. Photos, awards, medals, trophies, and certificates proudly adorned the wall behind the desk. Jan spotted a Purple Heart above pictures of him in his Army uniform in the jungles of Vietnam. Taylor noticed a black and white photo of him, probably when he was a rookie, sitting on the hood of a squad car.
Briggs sat behind the desk, clearing some of the papers away. “To get back to your question, Taylor, all the murders are similar in that all the victims were bitten on the neck, face, arms, and other body parts. They were all drained of blood.”
“Vampires,” Taylor said immediately.
“I thought the same thing,” Briggs added, leaning back in his creaky swivel chair. “So it’s not just Bram Stoker mythology? My FBI buddies would laugh at me hard if they heard this. Their faces would be as red as tomatoes.”
“No, I’m afraid it’s not just fiction. There are real-life vampires out there.”
“And you’ve encountered them?” Briggs persisted.
“Sure, and on more than one occasion. And yes, you can kill them with a stake through the heart, but there are also other methods. And there are other things they avoid besides sunlight.”
“Hmmm.” Briggs’ swivel chair creaked as he leaned back further, a thoughtful expression on his hardened face.
Taylor found the sheriff’s open-minded demeanor a positive thing. He’d met his share of law enforcement officials who thought of him as a new-age fairy and considered all things paranormal to be hokum. “How many victims have there been?”
“Three: a mother of two, a grandfather, and a kid who worked at the gas station. Some cattle and livestock have also been killed with the same signature, bites and drained of blood.” Briggs shook his head. “Folks in town are scared, and understandably. Everyone’s wonderin’ if their child or spouse is next, you know?”
Taylor nodded. “You mentioned on the phone that these murders were the first in Sunset Canyon in twenty five years.”
“Yes. This is the ideal place to raise kids, to retire, where everyone looks out for each other. Believe it or not, you get used to the scorching heat. I want to retain that image of Sunset Canyon as that kind of place, not where residents have to live in fear. That’s why I came out of retirement at the request of the mayor and the townspeople. They actually petitioned me to return! Can you believe that?” Briggs smiled sheepishly at them.
“I believe it.” Taylor answered. “And they saved a lot of their own lives.”
Sheriff Briggs took Taylor and Jan to the three homicide sites. At the last one, where the teenage boy was killed, there were still traces of dried blood inside the chalk outline of his body.
Taylor squatted down to get a better look at it, taking off his shades. He saw what appeared to be a broken fingernail near some dried blood. The nail was long, large, and sharp, like it had come from some animal or creature. After putting on a latex glove he picked it up and showed it to Briggs.
“Huh!” he said. “That wasn’t there before.”
There was dried blood caked under the fingernail. Briggs sealed it in an evidence bag. The trio carefully searched the crime scene but didn’t find any other clues. The late afternoon heat had set in when the son of a local pub owner zoomed up on his dirt bike, ripped off his helmet, and regurgitated what he saw to Briggs.
“It’s freaky, it’s like some alien life form,” the young man blurted out.
“Whoa!” Briggs said. “Slow down, son! Take it slow now.”
The young man caught his breath. “I was riding the dunes out at Point Peterson, having fun with my friends. After landing from a jump I saw what I thought to be a cow’s carcass in the sand. Sometimes they wander down that way, you know? Anyway, when I got closer to it, it’s not a cow at all. It looks like a giant rat, and I mean huge!” He stretched out his arms to emphasize his point. “It looked prehistoric!”
Sheriff Briggs tried to calm the boy and finally got him settled enough to ride back home. “Thanks for the tip, Bobby.” He turned to Taylor. “Let’s take a look-see, shall we, Professor?”
Taylor snapped pictures of the decomposed carcass. Flies and vultures hovered over the large mass. Jan kept her distance, not wanting to get any closer. She’d puke if she did. Holding her breath, she searched the surrounding area for clues.
Taylor backed up to where Briggs stood. “Well, what do you think?”
“It ain’t no cow, that’s for sure.” Briggs rubbed his rock solid chin. “Bobby’s right, it does look prehistoric.”
The hulking beast they saw was at least seven feet tall and was covered entirely by short brownish hairs, except on the bottom of its clawed feet and the palms of its clawed hands. Taylor immediately thought of the broken fingernail when he saw the claws. The creature’s trunk was elongated and wide, its tummy distended with fat, and it even had a long, spiraled tail. It was lying on its side, and protruding from its back was a pair of long, leathery wings.
“Looks like a bat.” Briggs declared, studying its pointy ears and snout that jutted out, revealing a set of long fangs. Its face was furry.
“Lemme see that nail from the last crime scene,” Taylor said.
Briggs handed it to him. Taylor walked up to the beast and compared the fingernail to the ones on its claws; a perfect match to a broken nail on its left hand.
“So, it would appear that we are looking at the killer of at least one of your three victims,” Taylor said. “The kid who worked at the gas station. I’ll bet that’s his blood under the nail.”
Briggs’ frown showed he wasn’t entirely convinced. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that. We still gotta run tests in the lab. We gotta know for certain.”
“I’ll bet it’s the kid’s,” Taylor persisted.
“Question now is: who killed this creature?” Briggs rubbed that iron chin again, brooding, his eyes narrowed to slits.
Jan finally joined them, dusting sand from her hands. “Hey, check this out.”
They followed her about twenty-five feet from the carcass, where the dunes ended and a two-lane road began. On the edge of the asphalt, near the white painted line of the lane, was a pool of dried blood. Flies were all over it. Tire burn-marks recklessly led away from the blood.
“Beautiful,” Briggs muttered. “Hit-and-run on a giant bat.”
The next day, Taylor and Jan met Sheriff Briggs at his office. His swivel chair creaked when he leaned forward. “Lab results came back. You were right. The blood under that fingernail belonged to the kid from the gas station. Blood from the other two victims was also found on the creature’s body. I put out a wire that we’re looking for anyone who has info on who hit the creature.”
Taylor nodded. A few seconds later, Deputy Justin came into the office.
“Oh, Justin,” Briggs said. “Did you talk to Mrs. Williams yet about her dog? A lot of students are still scared to walk by her house.”
“I did,” Justin replied, not looking at Taylor or Jan. “She said she’s gonna keep him in the backyard now.”
“Good.”
Justin turned on his heel and walked off without acknowledging the two visitors.
Later on, Taylor and Jan strolled down the main thoroughfare of the small, sleepy town. They both noticed townspeople looking away as they approached. Some, like the owner of the corner drugstore and the neighborhood grocer, whispered things to each other, as they secretly watched the two. The old man who owned the barbershop pretended to read the newspaper while observing Taylor and Jan.
“I feel like I’m in that creepy town in The Stepford Wives,” Jan mused, lookin
g over her shoulder at a portly, rosy cheeked woman who was staring at her as she swept the doorway of a video rental shop with a broom.
“Just stay professional,” Taylor said softly. “We’re here to do a job.” They stopped at a few places and asked questions about the murders but no one opened up. It was like running into a stone wall at every turn. Finally and surprisingly, they made some progress at the town library, where a mousy, bespectacled brunette revealed to them about strange occurrences in Sunset Canyon.
“What kind of occurrences?” Taylor prodded.
The librarian finished checking out some books for a customer before saying quietly, “The week of the first murder I heard someone or something shuffling around outside my house at night. When I looked out the window I didn’t see anyone. The noises continued so I went out to look. This never happened before. In all the years I’ve lived here things have always been normal. We haven’t had a major crime here in decades. When I went out I didn’t see anything, but the whole time I felt like I was being watched.”
So you know how we feel! Taylor thought. “Go on,” he said.
“That eerie feeling continued a few nights later when I went out to dump the garbage. I heard the same shuffling sounds and felt like I was being observed. After the second murder, I heard more of the same and told Sheriff Briggs about it. He came and looked around but found nothing.” The librarian’s eyes grew wide, as if she saw a ghost. “Another time I heard someone scratching their fingernails on my house wall from the outside. The nails sounded like they were long.”
“Wow, that’s pretty spooky,” Jan consoled.
“Tell me about it! Oh, did I mention the cave?”
“No, you didn’t,” Taylor replied. “What cave is that?”
The librarian shelved some books on a cart. “Well, it’s located on the outskirts of town. My girlfriend and I went hiking near there a few weeks back. We took a break near the cave entrance and we heard a horrible, bloodcurdling snarl.”
Both Barrels of Monster Hunter Legends (Legends of the Monster Hunter Book 1) Page 61