Dark and Stormy Knights

by P. N. Elord

  “Stop!” yelled Ryder, but it was too late. She’d moved too far, and now the Beacon was drawing the Terraphage toward their exit, blocking the way.

  The floor beneath Jordan’s feet bowed, tossing her back into the room, away from the back door. She hit the wall, taking the brunt of the blow on one shoulder as she shielded her daughter’s body.

  Shards of wood filled the air and showered down on top of them. Ryder felt the sting of cuts across his face but ignored them. A giant black hole opened up in the floor, and a heartbeat later, the pulsing mass of the Terraphage appeared in the opening.

  It was huge, filling one corner of the room. Oily, dark green skin hung on its jagged frame, leaving visible the oddly jointed bone structure beneath. Six eyes glowed flame orange from deep within its fleshy head, pulsing in time with the Beacon’s heart. Saliva poured from its jaws, and inside its mouth—which was wide enough to swallow a small car whole—were hundreds of tiny, serrated teeth angled back toward its throat.

  Ryder had heard the stories. He’d grown up with tales of the Terraphage haunting his dreams, but he’d never actually seen one before. He stood there, staring in shock, his mind unwilling or unable to accept what he saw. Fear slithered over his skin until he was shaking. A cold sweat that stank of terror and defeat slid down his ribs.

  Now he knew why the warnings he’d heard all his life had been so dire, why he’d been taught to show no mercy—to kill the Beacon before it was too late. The thing that stood before him could not be stopped. It was power incarnate, hunger made manifest. There was nothing a puny human like him could hope to do to win.

  “Mama, no,” came the little girl’s frightened cry.

  “Don’t look, Anne. Just don’t look,” said Jordan, her voice a whisper of terror.

  As if that would help. They were all going to die now. He knew that. Part of him wanted to fling himself at the thing and get it over with, but the rest of him fought that idea, thrashing in defiance at the notion that he’d give up now. He’d allowed this thing to come here. It was his duty to at least try to stop it.

  If he could save one little girl, at least his death would have some meaning. No one else would remember him or care that he was gone, but Anne might. If she made it out alive.

  The Terraphage lumbered forward toward Anne. The girl screamed. Jordan clutched her daughter and tried to push herself to her feet with one arm. Ryder leveled his Mossberg and fired the first slug.

  A deafening boom blasted the room, but the monster didn’t even rock back. It did, however, turn its focus onto Ryder, which was fine with him. If he got it away from the door, Jordan had a small chance of getting her daughter out of here alive.

  “That’s right, you ugly fuck,” he growled as he took aim at the thing’s eyes. “Come and get me.”

  Ryder fired again. And again. The Terraphage roared in anger, and a tentacle as thick as Ryder’s leg shot out toward him.

  He flung himself back to avoid it, landing hard on one of the small tables. It collapsed under his weight and he went down just as the razor-sharp tip of that tentacle sliced at him. His head slammed into the floor hard enough to put a light show on display behind his eyelids. He shook it off and instinctively rolled to the side. The muzzle of the shotgun burned his cheek as it rolled with him, but he barely felt it.

  As dizzy as he was now, he didn’t dare stop fighting the thing long enough for it to refocus its attention on the Beacon.

  He pushed to his feet, seeing two of the monsters lumbering toward him, hunched over to clear the high ceilings. His vision was fuzzy but clearing fast. Just not fast enough. The double vision faded and the two beasts coalesced back into one again just as it swiped one huge clawed paw toward Ryder’s head.

  He ducked as he brought up the barrel of the shotgun to shield himself from the blow. The weapon was ripped from his hands. It slammed into the wall and clattered to the floor, well out of reach.

  All he had left was the rifle across the room on the counter and the handgun in his shoulder holster. If the shotgun slug didn’t break that thing’s hide, the .45 might not even make a dent. He needed to get to the rifle. Fast.

  Ryder lunged to take cover under a booth table. He was at the front of the building now, hoping he’d drawn the Terraphage far enough away from the back door.

  “Run, baby!” he heard Jordan yell.

  Relief sang through his veins. He’d saved the little girl—given her the means to escape.

  Just then the Terraphage spun around as if sensing their escape. It let out a high-pitched, hissing howl as it leapt toward the Beacon.

  Anne screamed, her terrified voice rising to a deafening pitch that clawed at Ryder’s ears. Jordan scooped up her daughter and huddled in the corner, trying to shield the child with her body.

  It wouldn’t do any good. The Terraphage would gobble them up together, swallowing them whole.

  Hell, no. He was not going to watch this happen.

  Ryder shot out from under the table, grabbed one of the chairs, and hurled it at the Terraphage’s back. It roared in anger, swinging its lumbering body around as that razor-tipped tentacle shot out at his head.

  He lifted another chair and batted it away. The tentacle cut through the wooden seat, leaving the wood singed and smoking at the edge.

  Holy shit!

  Ryder had always refused to learn to fight in his grandfather’s inherited plate mail, and at this moment, he wanted to kick his own ass for not listening. No way was his leather jacket going to stop that weapon from slicing him down to the bone. If it managed to hit something vital, game over.

  Behind the monster, Jordan made a run for the kitchen. He prayed there was another way out, and if so, he was going to need to hold the doorway so they had time to get away.

  With that thought in mind, Ryder flung the remains of the chair at the Terraphage’s orange eyes and made a break for the kitchen. He slid through the opening and slammed the door shut behind him. It was made of wood, nice and solid, but after what he’d seen that thing do to the chair seat, he was convinced it wouldn’t hold long.

  A stainless-steel shelf stocked with supplies sat next to the door. Ryder grabbed the top shelf and toppled it over in front of the door.

  “What are you doing?” asked Jordan. She was breathless, and panic raised her voice an octave.

  “Giving you time to escape.”

  “There’s no way out of here.”

  The door shuddered under the Terraphage’s first attack.

  “Then why the hell did you run in here?” he demanded. He needed more barriers to pile in front of the doorway. Something—anything to put in the path of that thing.

  “I thought we’d be safe in here. It would give you time to kill it.”

  “Listen, lady. There is no killing it. I tried to tell you that before. You run or you die.” He grabbed a sack of flour and piled it onto the toppled shelving. “Is there a window or anything you can use to get out?”

  “No.”

  “Then you’d better start tearing a hole through the wall.”

  “It’s brick.”

  “Hope you’ve got some dynamite, then, or we’re all dead.”

  Anne whimpered, making Ryder feel like shit for scaring her more. She already knew she was going to die. He didn’t need to make it worse by scaring her more.

  Ryder pushed a giant, freestanding mixer across the floor, ripping the cord from the wall. He shoved it onto the sloppy pile, knowing even as he did it that the effort was futile.

  Jordan cradled her daughter. Her face was pale as death. “Closest thing I have is a propane tank I use on the grill in the summer.”

  Ryder froze as the beginnings of a plan slithered into his mind. “Where is it?”

  “Pantry.” She pointed toward an open doorway.

  He ran to the pantry, found the tank. He couldn’t tell if it was completely full, but it was their best shot.

  “Get in the pantry and stay there,” he ordered.

  “Wh
at are you going to do?”

  “Try to drive it back to where it came from.” Or at least send it off to find someone else to eat who was less trouble.

  “What can I do to help?”

  “Pray for a miracle.”

  Jordan hugged her daughter’s trembling body. They were both huddled in the back corner of the pantry, as far away from that abomination as they could get. They couldn’t see what was happening, which somehow made things more frightening. If Ryder failed, they’d have no clue the monster was coming for them until it was too late.

  “It’s gonna eat us,” whispered Anne. “Just like in my dreams.”

  “No, baby. Ryder’s going to kill it and we’re all going to walk away.” The lie didn’t sound convincing, even to Jordan’s own ears.

  “I don’t want to die, Mama.”

  “You’re not going to die.”

  A rumbling roar bellowed out from the monster, shaking the canned goods on the wooden shelves. Anne flinched and tightened her hold around Jordan’s waist.

  Ryder shouted a violent curse that rang with pain. A gunshot went off. The monster hissed and hit a wall hard enough to topple some of the dry goods from their shelves. A can of green beans rolled toward Jordan’s toes.

  Anne was right. They weren’t going to make it out of here alive, not if Jordan didn’t help him.

  “Stay right here, baby. I’m going to help Ryder kill it and I’ll be right back.”

  “No, Mama. Don’t go.”

  Jordan cradled her daughter’s precious face in her hands. Tears streamed down her pale cheeks, and her blue eyes pleaded for Jordan to stay. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”

  Anne shook her head. “You don’t know. You haven’t seen what it can do.”

  “Those were just dreams. You’ll see when this is all over that the dreams weren’t real.”

  “The monster showed up like in my dreams. Ryder showed up like in my dreams. We’re gonna die like in my dreams, too.”

  “No. I’m not going to let that happen. You stay here. Stay quiet. I’ll be back in just a few minutes.”

  Jordan kissed her forehead, maybe for the last time. Tears stung her eyes as she soaked in her daughter’s face. She didn’t want to leave her, but she’d do whatever it took to even the odds against that thing.

  “Love you, baby.”

  “Love you, too,” said Anne, her voice weak with fear and tears.

  Before Jordan could change her mind, she turned and left.

  The shelving in front of the kitchen door was a mangled mass of metal. The bag of flour had burst open, covering everything in a fine layer. Blood splattered the floor, mixing grotesquely with the white powder.

  The fight had moved back into the main room of the coffeehouse. She could hear the hissing of the monster and Ryder’s acidic curses coming from the next room.

  Jordan hurried over the floor, careful not to slip in the flour. She grabbed the knife caddy on her way out, thinking she could hurl them at the beast if nothing else. She wasn’t a fighter, but she’d do whatever it took to protect her baby girl.

  As she cleared the doorway, she saw Ryder dodge a massive tentacle that shot out from the monster’s stomach. The tip of it gleamed red with his blood, as did the claws on one of the beast’s giant paws.

  Ryder had been injured. He was a strong, fast, capable man. What chance did she have against something as huge and powerful as this?

  A panicked gale of laughter rose up in her chest. She fought it down, not wanting to give away her presence. Maybe if it didn’t know she was here, she could get in a lucky shot.

  Jordan had never thrown a knife before, but she’d seen it done on TV. She grabbed the biggest one she had by the blade and flung it end over end toward one of the monster’s eyes.

  The handle hit just to the left of where she aimed, bouncing off harmlessly. She hadn’t managed to hurt it, but she had managed to get the thing’s attention.

  Great.

  The fiery light in its eyes flared, trapping her gaze. The greasy weight of fear descended on her, pinning her in place. Like a deer frozen in headlights, she was unable to move. She couldn’t even breathe. An alien presence slithered into her thoughts, burrowed into her brain like a worm. The world stopped. Time fell away. She heard a hissing whisper buzzing in her ears, telling her hope was futile. Death was easier. All she had to do was hold still and it would all be over. Let it eat her, just as Anne had said.

  Poor, sweet Anne. Her baby was going to have to grow up without a mother. If she was lucky enough to grow up at all.

  The monster lumbered toward her, growing larger by the second. Jordan tried to close her eyes. She didn’t want to see it happen, but she couldn’t look away. The monster wouldn’t let her. It held her gaze, whispering to her of death and peace.

  How could there be any peace without Anne? Who was going to take care of her? She couldn’t stand here and let this thing eat her. She had to fight.

  The fiery light in the monster’s eyes flared brighter, and a searing pain exploded between Jordan’s temples. The hissing inside her ears grew louder. Her knees locked. Her body shook under the strain of trying to break free from the monster’s hold.

  It was close now—close enough to touch. It opened its jaws, and Jordan could feel its satisfaction slithering inside her mind. It knew it had won.

  Jordan put the image of her baby’s face in her mind and clung to that. Her mind filled with memories of Anne’s first laugh, her first step, her first day of school, when she seemed far too little to be away for so long. She’d been so brave that day, wiping away Jordan’s tears and telling her she was a big girl now. She’d come home from school devastated that she hadn’t learned to read that day, and it had been Jordan’s turn to wipe away the tears.

  So many happy memories of going to the zoo or watching cheesy movies and making up their own dialogue. Jordan was going to miss so much of Anne’s life, but she’d take her baby’s sweet smile with her and hold it close, always.

  A heavy weight slammed into her, knocking her off her feet. Shock ripped her eyes open, despite her desire not to witness her gruesome death. Instead of the monster, it was Ryder who was on top of her. He’d knocked her out of its path and was now shielding her with his body.

  Now that she was no longer looking into the monster’s eyes, the hissing whisper was gone from her mind and she was back behind the wheel of her own body. She blinked up at Ryder, trying to shed the lethargy in her limbs and the suicidal haze in her mind. She wasn’t sure what had just happened—how it had turned her into a person she didn’t recognize—but she knew she wasn’t going to let it happen again. No more looking into the monster’s eyes.

  “Get back in the damn pantry,” growled Ryder, then he rolled over and started firing at the thing. It roared in pain and reared back. The tentacle flapped in the air as if trying to swat away the bullets.

  “I’m trying to help.”

  He pushed to his feet, and she could see blood soaking the front of his shirt. Three parallel cuts had torn it to shreds, as well as scoring his skin beneath. “You’re just in the way.”

  “Tell me what I can do to kill it.”

  “Nothing. We’re screwed.”

  “I’m not letting it eat my baby. We need a plan.”

  He fired again. The bullets weren’t breaking the skin, but they were keeping the thing pinned against the far wall as it batted at them like mosquitoes. “I had one, but it’s not working.”

  “What was it?”

  “Get it to eat the propane tank. Shoot the tank and make it explode in the thing’s mouth.”

  “Do you think that would work?”

  “Maybe. But it knows the tank’s not food, so it’s not going for it.”

  It leaned forward from the wall, only to flinch back when Ryder’s gun fired again. Jordan didn’t know how many bullets he had in that gun, but they weren’t going to last long.

  The monster ate people. Maybe if the tank smelled like people, it woul
d eat it. At this point, anything was worth a shot.

  Jordan took one of the small knives from the caddy and scored a line on her forearm. Blood welled up from the cut.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” demanded Ryder.

  She smeared her blood over the tank, painting it a grotesque red. “Up here we do a lot of fishing. You have to put scent on your bait to get the fish to bite.”

  The Terraphage lumbered closer. Ryder fired again, only this time it didn’t back away. “Get back. I’ll see if it works.”

  Jordan scurried back behind the counter. She grabbed a towel and tied it over the wound to slow the bleeding. She couldn’t see what was going on, but she could hear the gunshots and Ryder’s vile curses rising up every few seconds.

  At least he was still alive to curse.

  She pushed herself to her feet, hoping to take a peek, and a few feet away spied Ryder’s rifle lying on a pile of spilled coffee beans.

  Jordan snatched it up. She was no marksman, but she knew the basics. Point and shoot. Just like a camera.

  Ryder tossed the bloody tank at the monster. A snakelike tongue shot out and grabbed it, drawing it into the thing’s mouth.

  Victory coursed through her. It had worked. The monster had taken the bait.

  “Die, fucker,” growled Ryder as he fired his handgun at the tank.

  The bullet pinged off harmlessly, not even denting it. There was no explosion, not even any flames.

  Their plan had failed.

  They were all going to die.

  Shit! Now what was he going to do? That propane tank was supposed to explode like in the movies. Hell, if Hollywood was to be believed, all he should have had to do was throw a rock at the thing to get it to burst into flames.

  But no. He couldn’t get that lucky.

  The bloody tank rolled around in the Terraphage’s mouth as if it were sucking on a piece of candy. Its blistered tongue flickered over it, cleaning away every trace of blood. As distracted as it was by its treat, it wouldn’t be that way long.

  It would either spit out the tank or swallow it, rendering it invulnerable inside the belly of the beast. Either way, Ryder was still screwed.