Chuck was no stranger to the woods. He was an accomplished tracker and knew how to survive. If his enemy had been human, he would have gladly faded into the brush and lain in wait to take them out.
But what was out there wasn’t a man. This was its natural habitat. Here, it had every advantage. Unarmed, against a creature with near human intelligence and the superior senses of a wild animal, all the training in the world wouldn’t be enough to even the odds. Chuck had seen his fair share of these monsters. His knife might as well be a toothpick for all the good it would do him. Yet here he was, letting this fool lead them deeper into the forest.
As he struggled to catch up, he felt wetness at his side. He didn’t have to be told what it was. He’d pulled at least some of his stitches. Great, just what I need. “The town’s back this way!” he protested, trying to push thoughts of his injuries out of his mind.
The other man stopped and turned to address him. “No, the road is back that way. You walk along it if you want. If that thing spots you, good luck beating it in a foot race. I’d say you’d last just long enough to piss it off real good.”
“I have friends back in town...”
“Well, then you’ll get to say ‘hi’ to your gang-banger buddies because that’s where we’re headed.”
Chuck ignored the snide comment. “Then why are we...”
“Shortcut. The Barrows’ place is just about a quarter-mile straight on. If we turn west about halfway, we’ll come out right behind the bar.”
“Doesn’t feel short.”
“Well, maybe it ain’t. But if that thing’s still tracking me, this’ll slow it down enough for us to...”
“Get to my friends?”
“If you want. Me, I was gonna bust a window in the general store and see if I could liberate myself a rifle.”
Chuck smiled back. “Think I can do better than that.”
Kurt eyed him warily. “Your friends packing?”
“Oh yeah. And then some.”
Just then, a bellow came from off in the distance, from the direction they’d been heading.
Kurt inclined his head to listen. “How in hell did it get in front of us?”
Before Chuck could offer an answer, six quick shots rang out in the night. Judging from the sound, it was a heavy caliber handgun. Derek, he thought with a smile.
Kurt likewise grinned. “Sounds like they started the party without us. Let’s get moving before they’re finished with things. I got me some payback to take on that bitch.”
♦ ♦ ♦
Thank God for lacrosse. Harrison thought, fleeing blindly through the back roads of the little town. Coach Connors, who ran the team at Alamosa University, was a mean old bastard. He often gave his players endless drills until they felt they were about to fall down dead. For the first time ever, though, Harrison was feeling some appreciation for it. If he had been in lesser shape, that thing might have caught him by now. As it was, he could still hear it occasionally letting loose with one of those God-awful screams that just about made you want to wet yourself.
He still couldn’t believe what he was doing. There was a part of him that was sure he’d gone insane. Maybe he had. Taunting a creature that was, by all accounts, his physical superior many times over was definitely not something a fully sane person did. Maybe this was how Jeff Goldblum’s character from Jurassic Park had felt when he decided to lead the T-Rex away from the kids. “Well, at least he survived,” he mumbled to himself, hoping he’d be as lucky.
The creature was large, powerful, and fast, but Harrison was counting on it being more at home in the forest than in a town. Hopefully, it wouldn’t have the stamina to keep up in an all-out race. If that failed, he could potentially duck inside of a store or house and attempt to lose it there. He reminded himself that he didn’t need to win this. He just needed to keep going long enough for the others to get to their guns.
After that, they just need to find me ... although, considering how much noise this bastard is making, that shouldn’t be a prob...
Harrison didn’t get a chance to finish the thought. As he ducked around the side of another building in an attempt to lead it back toward Main Street, a large hairy arm swung out. It was only a glancing blow, but he was sent flying. He landed in the middle of the street, dazed.
A form materialized from the shadows. It had large, ponderous breasts and was still bleeding from half-a-dozen small wounds in its torso. It began to walk toward the downed boy, drool pouring from its lips.
♦ ♦ ♦
“Holy shit, when did the demolition derby pull into town?” Francis asked as they reached their vehicles.
It wasn’t entirely surprising. They had passed a few other cars that had suffered similar damage. Derek just wasn’t sure if it had been random or if the creatures somehow knew that the cars could be used to escape. He hoped for the former. The latter was a little too frightening to contemplate.
Harrison’s Wrangler and the Xterra had both been tipped over onto their sides. His team’s SUVs, though heavier, had taken a beating, too. The hood on one of them was smashed and the front left axel broken. The other sat upon shredded tires. All of that, though, paled in comparison to what they saw of the van – if it could even be called that anymore. It was like someone had first sideswiped it, pushed it nearly half a block down the street, then dropped a wrecking ball on it.
“I hope Mitch wasn’t in there. Frank, get to the truck and grab some ordinance. Kate, go with him. I’m gonna go check the van.”
Neither of the others put up any argument against going to get some guns. Derek took a quick look around. He didn’t see any movement, so he quietly walked over to the remains of the smashed vehicle.
He made a full circuit around the wreckage. It was a mess. There was virtually no chance of it ever being drivable again. The auditors are gonna love this one.
Walking around back, he gave one of the doors a yank. Unsurprisingly, it was stuck shut. He turned to rejoin the others when he thought he heard a noise. It sounded as if something had shifted inside of the van.
He couldn’t believe anything could still be alive in there, but he had to be sure it wasn’t just his imagination. He banged on the back of the damaged vehicle. In the silence, it sounded terribly loud. Oh well, in for a penny... “Hey, anyone in there!?”
He was startled to be met with a reply. A muffled voice called from within, “Derek, is that you?” It was Mitchell.
Derek grinned, glad that his friend was alive. “Hold tight! We’ll get you out.”
“We’re not going anywhere,” a second voice replied. It sounded like that kid, Rob. They were both wedged in there? That must be a bit close for comfort, he mused.
“I’ll be right back,” Derek said to them, then left to make his way toward where Francis and Kate were hopefully arming themselves.
He was too far away to hear the growl that came from the second story window of the bed and breakfast.
Chapter 28
Was it possible there were no limits to the rage? It would seem so. At the sight before him, he felt it swell, doubling itself until he was certain he’d surely burst.
The two-legged things’ alpha had fled from him. Its challenge had been nothing more than a ruse. The stupid thing knew it could not best him for dominance. In its panic, it had run, seeking a safe place to hide, but there was no place that was safe from the Alpha.
He could smell its fear as it ran from him, albeit not nearly as well as he should. He didn’t realize that the disease was progressing rapidly now. It was beginning to clog up his nasal passages and eat away at the neurons connected to his optic nerve. Even had he known this, it wouldn’t have changed anything. He was still fast and strong. The creature that fled before him had dared mark itself as his equal. However, first it had tried to fool him. It would pay for both affronts.
He had come across the small clan of two-legged things as he sought out the source of the noise, the sound that told him the stupid things were at
tempting to fight back. The one in the lead had dared to lock eyes with him, a challenge to his dominance.
Before he moved to kill the insolent creature, though, a scent had caught his nostrils, smoke. Buried within it, however, was another smell. It took longer than usual to identify, bits and pieces of his brain having started to die. At last, he made the connection that the smoke carried on it the faint scent of one of the clan. It was enough information to let the Alpha know that his clan-brother was no more – albeit he didn’t care. All emotions other than rage were but distant memories to him now.
He was still cunning, though. If one of the clan were dead, that might mean these two-legged things had killed it with their fire sticks. A brief conflict was fought in his mind over this. The rage insisted the fire sticks were nothing to him now. He was supreme in the forest, perhaps in the world. The two-legged things were weak, and so were their weapons. His faltering memories, though, said otherwise. If the fire sticks of the stupid things had felled one of the clan, couldn’t they potentially hurt the Alpha, too? For perhaps the last time in his life, caution won out.
He had stopped and observed them, especially the challenger. If they were the holders of fire sticks, they would no doubt attempt to use them now. That didn’t happen, though. They just stood there, looking stupidly back at him. He quickly grew tired of the game. He had been just about to charge what he thought to be their alpha when one of them had broken from the pack, chattering in its stupid language.
It stopped a short distance away to wave its arms and scream at the Alpha. For a moment, he was confused, but then he realized the ruse. What he’d assumed to be the alpha of the two-legged things was nothing of the sort. He’d thought the stupid thing had challenged him, but now saw that it had merely been frozen by fear. However, this other two-legged thing was bold. It threw an undeniable challenge toward the Alpha. The last vestiges of instinct took over. The other two-legged things were meaningless. He would kill them in due time, but first, their alpha must be laid low.
He had charged, and their alpha had fled in the face of his superiority – stupid thing. It would not escape. Thus the chase had begun, the scent of its fear wafting behind as it ran.
The Alpha had come round a corner, ready to pounce upon the two-legged thing and listen to its screams, when he saw his kill was about to be stolen. The two-legged alpha was on the ground. One of the clan stood above it, daring to usurp what was rightfully his. Even worse, it was an outcast – one of those who had fled into the night in the early days of the rage.
A flickering memory whispered to him that this outcast had once been his mate. However, to the Alpha, that had been a long time ago. He was no longer capable of feeling such foolish things as warmth or compassion toward even his own kind. Besides, she was even now advancing upon his rightful kill. That could not be tolerated.
He roared a challenge toward the outcast. She turned toward him hissing, no recognition in her eyes. The Alpha didn’t know, nor would he have cared, that the female before him was even more fully in the grasp of the disease than he. She bared her teeth, foamy spittle raining down over her lips, and screamed her defiance at the Alpha – refusing to acknowledge him as anything other than an enemy.
Even in the midst of the rage, instinct can be a strong thing to overcome. The Alpha beat his chest and growled toward his former clan-mate. He swung a massive hand toward one of the two-legged things’ dwellings, shattering wood in the process. The outcast, though, was long past such displays of dominance. The rage’s hold over her was complete. As he persisted in his attempt to intimidate her into submission, she charged him.
Several hundred pounds of muscle flew into the Alpha. He fell to the ground with the outcast on top – clawing, biting, and tearing.
Neither of them noticed when the two-legged thing got back to its feet and limped away into the night.
Chapter 29
Richard Barrows had been startled out of a pleasant dream involving him and his late wife, Emma. As soon as he awoke, the dream faded from his memory – a small kindness of fate. It spared him from any undo heartache the lingering memories might have caused. Had he remembered, though, it would have surely struck him as ironic once the circumstances surrounding his awakening became known. In the dream, he and his wife – a dyed-in-the-wool movie buff – had gone to a drive-in theater to see a double feature of King Kong and Mighty Joe Young.
He’d gone to bed early that evening. Despite having taken a nap, he had been tuckered out. After reassuring his daughter, he had sent her back to mind the store. He’d then spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning off the front porch. It had been quite the mess, and he put a good hurt into his back mopping it up. He had been so intent on the task that, as he scrubbed away, he failed to notice a few small tufts of grey-brown fur lying in the blood. Had Kate seen them, she would have surely recognized it as matching the coat of her dog, Gus. Despite Richard Barrows’ earlier assertion that the dog would come home when it got hungry, Gus would not be coming home that night or ever again.
He didn’t know this as he got up out of bed, though. In fact, he was pretty sure the ruckus that had awoken him was none other than that fool dog pawing at the front door. He let out a cry as he barked his shin against the night table, more a result of being half-awake than from the dark. He then uttered a curse after trying the light switch and realizing that the power was out.
He briefly considered heading toward the electrical panel at the back of the house – the stupid dog could wait – when he stepped outside of his bedroom and realized that he was wrong to blame Gus. What he had thought was scratching at the door was actually the knob being jiggled. Unless the mutt had grown opposable thumbs, it was unlikely to be the cause.
He walked to the front door to investigate, navigating his way through the dark house with an ease born from decades of familiarity. He was more curious than worried. He knew it wouldn’t be Kate. Even had she forgotten her keys, she knew where the spare was hidden. So that meant someone else. Maybe that fool drunk, Joel Bean, had come back. If so, Richard was going to give the big lummox a piece of his mind.
He reached to unlock the door, and the movement of the handle became a little more frantic. He unbolted it and turned the doorknob.
“Goddamn it, Bean! If that’s you, I’ll...”
He didn’t get to finish. As soon as the door unlatched, it was shoved open from the outside. It hit the startled man and knocked him backwards, causing him to lose his footing and fall flat on his rump.
Before he could react, a shadowy figure crossed the threshold and came toward him.
♦ ♦ ♦
“Where are you going?” Francis asked, keeping watch at the door of the General Mart. He alternated between training the night scope of the powerful rifle between their ruined van, where Derek waited, and the street in case any more hairy visitors decided to show up.
“One must have their priorities straight,” Derek had said, grabbing an enormous revolver from the back of the SUV, then filling his pockets full of 50 caliber cartridges. After duly rearming themselves, they’d realized that they didn’t have the proper tools with which to pry open the van’s smashed doors.
“My place isn’t exactly a hardware store, but I think I can scare up a mallet and crowbar,” Kate had offered after they handed her a pump-action shotgun. She had accepted it gladly. Though normally not endeared to guns, she would sooner have walked through the streets naked than turn down some firepower at that moment.
Francis protested them splitting up, but Derek had insisted. He didn’t want Kate going alone, but he also refused to abandon the van for even a few minutes. If one of the beasts came back to finish the job, neither Mitchell nor the kid would last long, and they all knew it.
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