The shots stopped for the time being, leaving a loud beeping in Logan’s ears. He was halfway across the atrium by this point. The monster slashed with its large arms. When Logan felt the cool wind that came with the blow, he realized he was only a few feet from getting his spine crumpled.
Then the shots started again, only not as loud as before. Logan thought this was because he’d gone partially deaf, but then he realized that the monster now held one of the robed men in its large hands, and less people were shooting.
With a grunting roar, the beast squeezed its fingers together, and the man’s head popped off like a champagne cork. A jet of blood sprayed toward the platform, dousing the surrounding area.
Logan was close enough to slip in a forming red puddle. He righted himself as his shoe caught grip on the floor before he could fall and bust his own head open.
Jane wasn’t screaming. She was looking around in utter disbelief, but not screaming. Hardly afraid at all, it seemed. That’s Jane, Logan thought, and despite all of this, the destruction, the gore, the monster, he almost smiled.
The creature lunged forward. It didn’t walk upright like a man but used its arms as it moved along like a gorilla. It came for the two men who’d been holding Logan. One dove out of the way before he could be grabbed, but the older one didn’t move in time. The monster snatched him, but instead of squeezing him, it gobbled the man up, the halves of its head choking him down with two open-and-closes of its heavy jaws.
That was when the doors Logan had come from burst open. A sinking feeling settled in his gut. No, please, no more monsters.
But it wasn’t monsters. It was Brad and Grease. More broken glass rained down, courtesy of their bullets. Logan had kept running, but turned his head to see all of this. A surge of happiness filled him, though only momentarily, because there were monsters right behind Brad and Grease. The spider-babies.
Logan tripped over his own feet, and went sprawling across the floor, sliding almost to the platform his wife was currently trapped on. He knocked his head pretty good, a blink of fuzziness coming into his brain like a dead TV channel.
Brad and Grease dove out of the way as the spider-babies tumbled into Tower City.
Logan thought with utter horror, Are they bigger? Just since I saw them a few minutes ago?
There was no way they could be, but he thought that was exactly the case.
“Logan?”
Jane’s voice was enough to snap him out of the daze the knock on his head had brought on. He scrambled to his knees and turned around. What he saw dropped his jaw.
All of this? No.
He couldn’t believe it. This couldn’t be happening.
As the spider-babies and the Venus fly trap monster ravaged through the atrium, ripping apart the followers of Annette’s messed-up religion, Annette herself had sidled over to Jane’s stake and pressed her weapon against her forehead.
“Do not fight!” Annette was shouting. “Your sacrifice is here!” Her eyes took on the dream-like expression of someone high on very strong drugs. She didn’t notice Logan; right then, he was the furthest thing from her mind. “Please! I bring you meat, and you bring us peace! Please!”
Devin’s head lolled. Eyes blinked open, closed. He grimaced, then his eyes snapped open and stayed that way.
“What the fuck?” he said.
Gunshots rippled behind Logan. Brad shouted. Grease screamed in what sounded like pain. It was hard for Logan to ignore, but right then he had to.
“Gods!” Annette screamed, her voice deeper and more booming than it had any right to be. “Listen to me!”
But the spider-babies and the Venus fly trap monster paid her no attention.
Logan crawled up the platform, his head throbbing, his blood pressure at an all-time high. Jane watched him, tears streaming down her pale cheeks.
“GODS!” Annette screamed.
The spider-babies paused. Logan looked up. There were two of them. They looked even bigger since they’d come through the window. One of them held an arm in its mouth, blood dripping from the limb, slapping the floor, staining the white red. They all, in unison, leaned back on their hind legs, and raised their front legs like someone welcoming a long awaited thunderstorm in the throes of a drought. A collection of black, glassy eyes focused on the platform, on Annette, on Jane and Devin, on Logan. The Venus fly trap turned as well, the front of its human-like torso covered in dark red.
Logan realized now that there were no longer any robed men and women. They’d been torn to shreds, or stomped, or completely eaten. With a quick glance, he scanned the atrium and saw Brad pressed up against an overturned kiosk with a sign offering 4D ultrasounds. He was holding Grease in his arms; Grease didn’t seem to be moving.
Annette continued in that same booming voice, “Tell your mother I have fed you! Tell her she owes me protection!”
All thoughts of Grease, of the end of the world, vanished. Mother? Logan thought. Mother? Then with dawning horror, he realized who the mother was. Hadn’t he seen the birth himself? The egg sac busting open and the spider-babies descending from the large river monster’s underside?
Yes. Yes, he had.
“Tell her after you have your feast!” Annette shouted to the heavens.
That was when Logan realized she meant to pull the trigger.
He got to his feet. He jumped up the half dozen steps and threw his shoulder into Annette’s midsection. The old woman felt cold, felt dead, like a corpse, like rigor mortis. He didn’t think she was even breathing.
Behind him, he could feel the monsters inching closer; done with the others, they were moving on to the sacrificial lambs. They came like an early shadow on a previously bright day.
Then Annette’s gun went off.
19
The End Part II
Jane felt the bullet whiz past her, mere inches from her head. Then she saw the gun go skittering down the platform’s steps and into the shadows.
Logan grunted, he cried, he screamed. Through it all, Jane hated that she was helpless, that she was tied to this pole and unable to move. But she knew her husband well; she knew exactly what he’d be thinking when the gun went off.
So she called out. “Logan! I’m okay!”
But for how much longer?
The spiders were advancing. The thing that looked like a cross between a troll and some deadly clam followed it. There was so much blood that Jane could smell it, could taste the metallic tang on the tip of her tongue when she spoke.
“A little help!” Devin shouted to Jane’s left.
She was glad, on some subconscious level, to hear his voice. He hadn’t moved since the old woman had clocked him in the side of the head with her weapon. Part of Jane had thought he was dead, and what the hell would she tell Regina when she saw her?
Because I will see her again, she thought fiercely.
“Jane?” Logan called.
“I’m all right. I’m all right—”
The monsters were so close now, she could see them in gruesome detail despite the lack of light. The chittering fangs on the two spiders, the dripping teeth of the troll-thing. She could smell the alien world they came from, clinging to them like a sickening perfume.
Behind her, there was a struggle. Skin slapping skin. Logan grunting in pain. The old woman screaming and calling out for her ‘gods’.
Then, out of her peripheral vision, Logan emerged. He was holding the old woman by the back of her neck. He was bleeding from the eyes, bright streaks of red dripping down his face. Annette’s legs kicked at him. Her skin was unbelievably pale, like she was already dead.
Logan said, “Go to your gods!” and with a great grunt, he threw the woman toward the spiders and the troll-thing.
The monsters moved with sickening speed. Spider legs scrabbling over the blood-soaked tile. Thunderous footsteps of the troll. Together, all three of the creatures caught the woman known as Annette—the spiders in their mouths, the troll with its oddly human hands.
Logan watched the monsters dig into the woman, dying rage and a fresh wave of guilt coming over him. The right side of his face pulsed with pain. He felt blood on his cheek. Annette had clawed at his eyes, tried prying them from his socket.
He watched the monsters drag her off to the shadows. He heard her screaming when she no longer should have been.
This was the last plan. Plan Z. The monsters expected an official sacrifice, and had gotten one, courtesy of Logan Harper.
He turned toward his wife, tied to the inverted cross. His knees buckled, and the strength went out of his legs. He thought he might pass out.
You’ve been strong this long. Be strong a little longer, Logan, he told himself.
Using the wood for support, he pulled himself up. Not far from the platform, near a pool of blood from a mangled body that looked like it’d been stomped by the Venus fly trap on elephantine legs, was the switchblade. Logan picked it up and cut Jane’s ropes, and she fell into his arms.
He held her, as he sobbed for a long moment. She covered him in kisses; they were the sweetest kisses that had ever graced his lips and cheeks. She did not care about the blood leaking from his eyes.
Then he cut Devin’s ropes. There were no kisses from Johnson, but the usually stern man wrapped both Jane and Logan up in a hug.
Brad and Grease came over during this hug. Grease, Logan saw, was limping, blood running down his thigh. He had taken a bullet and passed out from the pain earlier but was up now. Still, the guy who looked like John Travolta grinned with happiness.
Hardly any of them heard the monsters devouring Annette in the shadows. If they had, it wouldn’t have mattered; for the moment, they knew they were safe.
They left Tower City minutes after that, beaten, broken, but not damned.
The Humvee was flipped over and missing a couple of tires. An array of wires snaked from its hood. To Logan, they looked mighty important. Not like it would matter anyhow; there was no driving this thing while it was belly-up.
The darkness was complete, full. Logan judged it to be well past midnight, perhaps even close to the next sunrise.
“We’ll have to walk,” Devin said.
“I don’t think Grease is gonna get very far,” Brad whispered.
“I heard that, asshole,” Grease said. “I’ll do my best. You ain’t leaving me in this fuckin’ graveyard. No chance.”
Logan and Jane hadn’t stopped holding hands since they’d left Tower City. They were at least two miles away now, thought it was safe, and they unclasped their hands.
Logan said, “I’ll carry you, Grease.”
Grease laughed. Then, when he saw that Logan was being serious, his grin vanished. “No way, dude. I’m not a baby.”
“But you are hurt,” Devin said. “Let him carry you. That’s an order.”
So Logan carried Grease, cradled him actually, much to Grease’s displeasure.
They walked on, and despite all the pain and sluggishness that had come over Logan, he was in the lead.
Half an hour into their journey, Logan saw headlights coming over the horizon, maybe a mile away. He stopped; the others stopped behind him.
“What?” Jane said. Then she followed his gaze.
So did everyone else. In all of their excursions from Ironlock, they’d hardly seen headlights or operating cars. They’d seen people, both dead and alive, yes, but those people were usually on foot. A vehicle without the right weapons was a death sentence.
But here was one now, which meant there was another group of people who had weapons.
Logan wouldn’t call himself as a pessimist, but the first thought that crossed his mind was that they’d have to fight these people, because they would undoubtedly try to take what few possessions Logan and the others had. That was the way of the post-apocalyptic world, wasn’t it? He’d seen enough movies to know that was true.
As the car slowed, he set Grease down on the shoulder of the highway and took the man’s Glock. Logan had dealt with enough shit; he wouldn’t deal with anymore. He took aim with the handgun. Whether there were any rounds left, he didn’t know. For the moment, the others took a backseat to Logan’s decision. Even Devin Johnson, and that was saying something.
The driver of this mystery car laid on the horn. Tires shrieked as the driver cut the wheel to the left, and that was when Devin Johnson screamed, “No!”
But by this point, Logan had recognized the vehicle too, and he lowered the Glock.
This SUV was from Ironlock.
Regina Johnson came out of the driver’s side with her hands up, her dark skin blanched, her eyes wide and wet. “Don’t shoot!”
“Oh, thank God,” Grease mumbled. “Getting carried around like that is beyond degrading.”
Devin Johnson ran, hobbling, toward the SUV. Regina rounded the open door, and they embraced. Logan heard the smacking sounds of her kisses, just as Jane had kissed him at the shrine.
As they watched, Logan took his wife’s hand again.
Not long after, they piled into the SUV and headed home to Ironlock as changed people, as hardened people.
The darkness now seemed like nothing.
20
Epilogue
The Ironlock folk threw quite a homecoming party. The hunters had been gone a little more than a day, but to Brad Long, it felt like an eternity. It was good to be back home.
Since the sun only hung around for a couple hours, it was easy for sleep to find him after the festivities ended. His belly was full of hot dogs, orange Gatorade, and Milky Ways; he was still alive and so was everyone else.
With the happiness branching through his veins like some kind of drug, he was nearly out before his head hit the pillow, a smile on his face.
In his exhaustion, he hadn’t thought of the nightmares that had plagued his rest since the end of the world came, nor did he think of reading a passage or two from the Bible that Regina Johnson had given him.
So the nightmares filled his head like the monsters filled the world.
In the worst dream, he saw a skeletal finger pressing a button. He saw missiles preparing for launch. Then he saw the world bathed in fire, the landscape blackened, the world ended, and hope truly destroyed.
When he woke up, soaked in sweat and breathing hard, he knew this was more than a dream. Somehow, some way.
It was a vision of the future…the very near future.
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Afterword
This book wasn’t as hard to write as the first one. Thank God. I’ve gotten a pretty good grasp on the world and the characters. So that helps.
Anyway, how are you, dear reader?
I am good. I just got married, which is pretty cool. And, as I write this, Halloween is right around the corner, and that’s even cooler. Don’t tell my wife, though. Please.
So…I’ve asked before, I’ll ask again: Does anybody read these afterwords? If you do, email me at [email protected] and tell me what your all-time favorite movie is.
Hope you enjoyed the book.
Best,
Flint Maxwell
October 24, 2018
About the Author
Flint Maxwell lives in Ohio, where the skies are always gray and the sports teams are consistently disappointing (not so much lately). He loves Star Wars, basketball, Stephen King novels, and almost anything horror. You can probably find him hanging out with one (or all) of
his five household pets when he’s not writing, reading, or watching Netflix.
Get in touch with Flint on Facebook
Also by Flint Maxwell
Jack Zombie Series
Dead Haven (Book 1)
Dead Hope (Book 2)
Dead Nation (Book 3)
Dead Coast (Book 4)
Dead End (Book 5)
Dead Lost (Book 6)
Dead Judgment (Book 7)
Fright Squad Series
Fright Squad: A Comedic-Horror Adventure
Fright Squad 2: The Monster Games
Fright Squad 3: Night of the Slasher
Taken World Series
Ravaged (Book #1)
Darkness (Book #2)
Decimated (Book #3)
Something Dark: Horror Stories
Let Us Out
The Midwest Magic Chronicles
The Midwest Witch (Book #1)
The Midwest Wanderer (Book #2)
The Midwest Whisperer (Book #3)
The Midwest War (Book #4)
Taken World (Book 2): Darkness Page 16