The Old Plymouth Duster’s engine still chugged along. Sprays of gasoline and oil spouted from busted hoses and a fractured engine. The engine piston misfired, sending a bolt of fire streaming along the gasoline spewed bottom of the car. This ignited the tank. The Duster exploded sending a cloud of fire fifty feet in the air. Burned and blackened bodies of crabs flew in all directions. The trees surrounding the car lit up like candles. The dry season of California was in full swing. Anything the fire touched seemed to burst into flames as if it were doused in gasoline. A soft easterly blowing wind pushed the fire out into the forest, setting the woods ablaze. The crabs moved as close to the fire as they dared, and still piled onto the land in enormous numbers.
Chris landed upside down as the F-150 came to a halt resting diagonally on its roof. The crabs started inching their way into the cab. Chris decided to go the easy way. He took a .22 snub-nose pistol out of his pocket, put it in his mouth and blew out the back of his skull.
Chapter - 36
The fire blazed wickedly along the forest beyond the docks. The battling masses inside increased in their fury as they saw death on both sides. It was either burn or be eaten and neither seemed like a good option. They fought the crustaceans with cold steel blades and hot lead. The monster crab seemed okay with basking in the shallows of the ocean among the wreckage of boats and splintered docks. She was letting her minions do the work. They were slow, and weak outside of water, but their numbers were overwhelming.
Duke was alongside a small circle of five people fighting off crabs from all sides. He slashed viciously with his knife, careful to skewer the damn things in the body. Cutting off their legs was useless, he learned quickly, from a few irksome cuts from not-quite-dead crabs. He stabbed for the mouth, eyes and belly of the beasts, ignoring the claws and going for the kill every time. The others around him were also the worse for wear. There was no chance to rest. Two of them were elderly, holding their own with guns and hammers. There was a younger man, who didn’t seem too tired, but Duke saw that he took too many chances and broke forward rather than hand back and let the crabs come to him. One crab wouldn’t kill you, but when twenty of them grabbed you at once, that was it.
There was also the girl. She couldn’t have been older than ten. She killed crabs with a pink Airsoft rifle. It was slow, but Duke saw that she had good aim. He thought that it was too bad that they were all about to die. Duke spared a glance behind him. The blue sky was enshrouded in the rising black smoke from the raging fire. They were a hundred yards away, but still the heat was stifling. The fire rose in swirls of blue, orange and red, making him feel like he was in the bowels of hell and it was feeding time for Satan’s minions. Duke thought about his little girl at home, just a little younger than the one next to him. He didn’t see her much, not with his tow truck driving job taking him out of town more often than not. He already missed much of her childhood and would miss it all if he died now. He saw panic in her face. The Airsoft rifle trembled in her grasp. Duke reached over and put his hand on hers, steadying the gun.
“Take it easy,” he said. “Take them out one at a time.” The girl nodded and shook the rifle, gently knocking Duke’s hand away. The gun didn’t shake one bit as she shot an oncoming crab right between the eyes.
“I don’t need any help,” she said, popping off another two rounds. Two kills.
“I know,” Duke said, loading his pistol. “People my age always butt in, it’s in our nature.” Duke turned away from the girl and kicked a crab that was snapping at his shins. He shot the gun one easily aimed bullet at a time. The kills were easy, because the crabs were so damn close. The young man had moved forward in his attack lust again. His red blood mixed with the blue of the crabs as he waded among them shooting and stabbing.
“Get back here!” Duke yelled. The kid paid him no notice at all. His eyes were wide and rolling in their sockets. He ran out of bullets and used the butt of his handgun to break shells. His other arm was blue up to the elbow in blood as he cut and slashed with a knife. Several crabs clapped their claws on his knife-wielding arm. The boy screamed and pulled his arm back, but not before another crab sliced off two of his fingers. The knife dropped. The young man smashed the crabs in a frenzy with his gun. He looked bewildered as his legs were pulled out from under him. The crabs swarmed over his body. The elderly people, Duke and the girl tightened the circle. The young man screamed as the crabs began to devour him. Duke looked over at the girl, who was watching the man get eaten while defending what little space they had left. Duke knew she was thinking about trying to save the young man.
“Don’t do it,” Duke said. “He’s gone and you’ll get killed too.” The girl gave Duke a cursory glance and darted forward. Duke grabbed her by the back of her collar and pulled her back, several grasping crab claws missed her by inches. She pointed the air rifle at him. He turned his back to her and turned his attention to killing the crabs which were getting much to close for comfort. She gave a small curse and resumed fighting. It seemed to take the young man forever to die.
The elderly couple were sweating profusely. They looked at each other. The man took the woman in his arms and kissed her. Then they both dropped their weapons and sat down.
“Don’t stop fighting,” Duke said, “You’ll kill us all.”
“We’re done,” the old man said, a crab claw reached forward and ripped out his throat. The woman put her hand over the wound tenderly, letting the blood wash over her fingers. Then the crabs were upon her. Duke ran out of bullets soon after. He glanced over at the girl, her eyes were ringed in black. Her mouth was set in determination, but tears were falling from her eyes. Duke reached over and pulled her to him. She screamed and spun her rifle around. Duke was barely able to slap it away before the shot rang off. He felt the bullet take off his earlobe. Hot blood ran down his neck.
“I’m sorry,” he said and rapped her on the temple with his gun. Duke lowered her gently to the ground. The crabs were already tearing at the backs of his legs. He laid his body on top of hers and tried to cover her as best he could. He waited for death.
Chapter - 37
The vagrants walked out of the forest fire like avenging angels of death. Their clothing, old, blackened, ragged and smoking, clung to their emaciated frames. They were dirty, but it was readily apparent that they weren’t just dirty from the forest fire, they were dirty from lack of washing. Their guns didn’t seem old and ragged. These men and women seemed to care little for themselves, but kept their firearms in perfect, oiled condition - and holy shit did they have a lot of guns.
A grizzled, deeply-wizened man with a cigarette stuck in his gums where teeth used to be, walked in front of the rest. He broke his aged double barrel shotgun and loaded it with shells. He snapped the barrel back into place and took a long drag on the cigarette, burning the unfiltered hand-rolled cancer stick down to his lips. He spit the end of the cigarette out and smiled crookedly.
“Get the bibs and butter, boys,” he said. “Looks like we’re having seafood for dinner.” The vagrant crowd laughed and cheered as they loaded guns, slapped clips into automatics and pumped shells into barrels. The walked forward easily, some slapping errant fires that ignited on their pants legs. They opened fire as soon as they were in range and killed the marauding crabs in a swath of flying death. With grim determination they moved forward, saving those in dire need of help and exhausted from the battle. These they put behind them to lay upon the smoldering concrete of the dock parking lot, panting and thanking them for saving their lives. Forward the hillbillies moved, pushing the crabs back to the ocean.
Near the water, Duke was giving up the fight. The old ones were dead. The young man, dead. It was only he and the girl left. They were both bleeding from several wounds, scared and attacking without reason. The girl fell as a crab snipped her Achilles tendon in half. Duke covered her body with his, hoping that the crabs would miss her small form under his as they feasted on his flesh. He closed his eyes as the crabs crawled over hi
s body. The pain came in sort razor slices as his back and neck were pinched and snipped away in small slices. Duke waited for the end and hoped it would be quick.
Over the snapping claws and chewing mandibles of the flesh, Duke heard the whine of bullets pass close overhead. He tried to lower his body, careful not to crush the screaming girl underneath him. Bits of crab and blue blood rained down all around him. Duke felt pinching claws ripped out of his back and neck as several hands tore the crustaceans off of him and hauled him and the girl to their feet.
“Much obliged,” Duke said, wiping the blood away that was seeping from his mouth.
“Ain’t got no time for that,” the vagrant leader said. “Get yourself and the girl back behind us and get yourself together. We’ve got a fight going on.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” Duke said, smiling at the haggard old man. “What are you guys going to do?”
“We got fire behind us and monster crabs in front of us. I think I would feel a whole lot better surrounded by fire. What do you think?”
“Couldn’t make my day any worse,” Duke said.
“That’s the spirit,” the vagrant leader said. He tucked his gun under his arm and put his index fingers in his mouth, whistling a piercing shriek that could be heard over the rapid gunfire of the vagrants. The gunfire died down a bit and he hollered.
“Fire these suckers up!” The vagrants pulled jars of every sort and size from inside their clothing. Each jar had a hole in the top in which a piece of cloth was pulled through. Duke saw this and swore, grabbing the girl and running toward the blazing inferno ahead of them to try and find some cover. The vagrants lit the Molotov cocktails from the fires behind them and launched the bombs toward the army of crabs. When the flaming jars of glass shattered, fire spewed everywhere in great droplets of searing hell. The crabs scuttled backward, trying to douse themselves in the ocean. Whatever the vagrants made their booze out of, it must have been some pretty vile stuff. Wherever the liquid hit, it burned blue and hot. The liquor seemed to stick to whatever it hit, boring through armored shell and flesh like a razor cutting through butter. The crabs were in a full scale retreat, but Duke saw another problem, now they were surrounded by fire. When the vagrant leader told him it was better than monster crabs, Duke agreed with him. Now he was not so sure.
Duke took off his shirt and submerged it in a puddle of water and put it back on. It began to sizzle and smoke before a full minute passed by. The vagrant leader was walking up to him. He was smoking too, but not his clothes. It was a Pall Mall.
“Why the hell are you looking so downtrodden, young man?” the vagrant leader asked. “Don’t you think I would have the situation under control?” Just as he finished the question, Duke heard a hum overhead. Out of the smoke came the saddest, rustiest looking, yellow painted crop duster churning overhead. The vagrant leader took off his hat and covered his cigarette as the crop duster dumped a load of saltwater over the dock area, dousing the liquor fire and drenching the survivors, human and crab. The vagrant leader smiled and set his hat back on his head. He put his cigarette in his mouth and inhaled deeply. It was still lit.
“Don’t get too comfy,” the vagrant leader said. “Old Clem will probably take another pass with that plane of his. I didn’t think he could get the damn thing up in the air anymore. I hadn’t seen him fly it any in nearly five years.”
“You didn’t know he was coming before you doused everything with burning liquor?” Duke said. The vagrant leader shrugged.
“Yeah,” he said, “Old Clem came through. Lucky us.” Duke loaded his pistol. The crabs were beginning to take the shore again, albeit slowly. Many were injured and could barely move. Others seemed to have lost some of their fighting spirit. Duke wondered if they were getting close to leaving this nightmare behind them. Then the huge bulk of the monster crab broke the surface again.
The crab was battered and torn in a hundred different places. Pale blue blood dripped down its cracked armor. Holes from a thousand bullets, some still smoking, dotted along its face. The giant spider crab snapped its claws and twitched it mandibles horribly.
It looked pissed off. Clem picked the wrong time to make a second pass with his crop duster.
The giant spider crab shot a claw forward and stabbed though a smoldering Buick sedan. It lifted the car up and over its head and launched it forward. The sensible car shot through the sky and hit the crop duster full on, making the ancient plane explode in a shower of sparks and water. The plane crashed right on top of a pack of vagrants, splattering body parts, entrails and bits of brain in every direction.
“Holy shit!” the vagrant leader screamed. The Pall Mall dropped from his mouth and sizzled in the water at his feet. “It killed Clem! Nobody kills Clem!” The vagrant leader put his fingers in his mouth and whistled. “Everyone still alive, get your asses out from your hiding spots and come right out here now!” The vagrants weren’t hiding. They just moved a little closer. However, there were many others still alive even after all the carnage. They came out of cars, under debris and out of hiding spots of every kind. Although there were many more than the vagrant leader would have thought, there were only around fifty souls left standing. Duke and the girl were among them.
“Alright you sad sacks of moth-eaten worm shit,” the vagrant leader addressed them, ignoring the monster crab at his back which was advancing on the huddled masses with steps that shook the very ground. “There ain’t but shit of us left, but we have to be worth something to have survived this long. I’ll tell you something – I’m not going to be eaten by no fucking crab tonight. You can bet your damn life on that one.” The giant crab picked up another car, this time a little Ford Festiva and lifted it into the air, readying a throw. “I ain’t got no tricks left. I say we turn and burn on this fucking dick-snapper and kill this mother fucker for good this time!” The speech wasn’t great, but it was enough for the bloody, burned and beaten mob. They turned as one and opened fire. The crab was hit with such a blast that its throw was off. The Festiva flew overhead and smashed harmlessly into wreckage behind the group. The people walked forward as one, firing, reloading and firing. The crab stepped backward, rearing on its back legs. It looked like it was about to topple backward. The vagrants hollered loudly as it appeared they were about to flip the giant on its back. They began firing in earnest.
The crab slammed its body forward, shaking the ground and knocking everyone off their feet. Guns went off with the impact and several of the survivors were hit with friendly fire. The crab pushed its body upward with its hundred foot long legs and toppled forward, landing on its back and crushing half the survivors under its armored spikes. The giant moved its legs ferociously, trying to get back up, but the survivors were stunned, all hurt and some bleeding from gunshot wounds. They couldn’t get themselves to attack the fallen prey. Fire was all around them. Blood and guts covered the ground. Pieces of crab were everywhere, covered the ground like shards of glass. The giant crab was a mess of splintered armor, jetting streams of light blue blood. The vagrant leader stood. He was holding his right arm which was turning red from a gunshot wound. He was looking off into the woods. Duke stood up, picking bits of crab shell out of his thigh when he saw it. A man shambled forward, a small knife was in his hand. The man was naked and burned his whole body over. Part of his head had been crushed, his skull dented inward. A shard of bone was sticking out of his eye socket. His mouth worked, but no words came out. He moved among the thrashing limbs of the giant and began to stab his small knife over and over into the body of the crab.
“CLEM!” the vagrant leader yelled. “You’re alive! Get up everybody. Follow Clem!” The people rose. Only fifteen of them were able to stand. The giant snapped a claw the size of a tank down on Clem, cutting him in half vertically.
“He killed Clem again!” the vagrant leader shouted. “Kill that damn crab!” Only a few of the survivors had guns left and even those didn’t have many bullets. The people ran forward and began cutting and hacking a
t the crab. All but Duke that is. The tattooed repo man was running toward the fire and toward his tow truck. The crab was trying to roll back onto its feet to no avail. It crushed two more people with its efforts. The remaining survivors attacked with the fury of the damned. When their blades broke on the crab’s armor, they scratched and bit into the soft salty flesh. One man had dug inside the crustacean up to his waist and didn’t seem likely to stop until he burrowed to the flailing beast’s heart.
Duke got to his truck and ran around the back, releasing the trailer and gunning the dented vehicle toward the monster. He was almost back when he hit the brakes, hard. Before him stood Billy Bartelle, cut to ribbons, bloody and broken, but holding a rocket launcher aimed right at Duke and his truck.
“This will teach you to fuck with the Bartelle Brothers!” Billy screamed. Duke knew he should have been surprised at the weapon, but knowing what he did about the Bartelle brothers, them having a rocket launcher didn’t faze him one bit. Duke rolled down the window.
“You might want to turn around,” Duke said. Billy turned just in time to see a flailing claw swipe the air in front of him. He fell backward on his ass. The rocket launcher went off when he hit, the back of it caroming off the ground from the recoil and hitting Billy in the back of the head, knocking his ugly head right off his body. The rocket exploded on one of the crabs limbs. The leg broke off like the falling of a gigantic timber and crashed to the dock parking lot. Duke couldn’t tell if it hit anyone or not. Duke got out of his truck and ran over to the fallen body of Billy Bartelle, giving the pawn store owner’s head a good solid kick on the way, sending the bleeding orb in an arc about ten feet away. He picked up the rocket launcher and turned over Billy’s body with one foot. The man had taken the time to strap several rockets to his body. Duke counted about five. He put the rocket launcher back on the ground and got back into the tow truck he drove right for the crab, dodging the remaining claws and legs deftly in such a large vehicle. He got to the group and hailed the vagrant leader.
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