Eric S. Brown (7 page)

“
I trust him,” Helena said out of the blue.

Lori sighed. “That’s not the point. We’re all equals in this. We should have a say in the plan.”

“
Something’s not right,” Elijah told them, ending the argument.

Caught off guard, her train of thought derailed by Elijah’s abrupt statement, Lori snapped, “What?”

A roar that shook the night came from somewhere in the woods to the Outback’s right. Something huge burst from the trees, smashing into the side of the Outback. The next thing Lori knew, they were flying. The world moved in slow motion as the vehicle flipped over onto its top. She heard voices screaming and realized one of them was her own. Lori’s ribs met the dash as she was tossed into Elijah. Her elbow bashed against the steering wheel as she landed below him, in his lap. Elijah was held in place by his seatbelt. Jacob and Helena caught it even worse than she did. They were flung about the rear of the Outback like pinballs.

“
Out of my way,” Elijah growled at Lori as he popped his seatbelt, shoving her away, and crawled out the driver’s side window onto the road. Lori righted herself as she scurried in the opposite direction, the roof now under her knees.

Helena lay across Jacob. The two of them bloody, a mess of jumbled limbs on the Outback’s ceiling. They both looked to be breathing. Most of the windows had shattered from the impact.. Lori heard Elijah’s pistols firing out on the road, a rapid series of cracking shots. Another roar, half human, half beast, echoed in the darkness outside the car. She screamed again as Elijah’s head unrepentantly popped back through the broken window on his side.

“
Get them up and moving!” he shouted into her face.

Lori scrambled from the Outback over the broken window glass. She felt it slicing and digging into her hands. Ignoring the pain, she hauled herself out, getting to her feet next to the overturned vehicle. Lori rubbed the glass from her palms and drew her pistol. She jerked her head around as Elijah emptied his own guns at the trees in the distance. Her eyes caught a glimpse of a massive hairy back as something disappeared into the shadows of the woods.

“
Where are the others?” Elijah demanded.

Lori couldn’t believe it but she saw fear in him. “They’re. . .they’re unconscious.”

“
Damn it! Get them! We’ll drag them if we have to.”

“
What was that thing?” Lori asked but Elijah was busy tugging Helena from the wreck, seeing that she was too startled do it, his hands under the girl’s arms. Elijah dropped Helena, diving in again for Jacob. As he yanked the nerdy writer onto the road, Jacob stirred.

“
Can you move?” Elijah barked at the writer..

“
I think so,” Jacob said.

Elijah hefted Helena in his arms, carrying her as he ran. Jacob was still shaking his head and trying to clear it as Lori jerked him to his feet. She knew she was going to have to help him. Tossing one of his arms over her shoulders, she dragged him along after Elijah.

Elijah wasn’t waiting on them. He moved like a cheetah on speed, unhindered by Helena’s weight in his arms.

“
Elijah!” Lori yelled at him, knowing she couldn’t keep up with Jacob slowing her down. He stopped, waiting on them to reach him, anger seeping out of him.

“
The farm is just over the next hill,” he told them. “We make it there or die! Do you understand?”

Lori nodded. Jacob was standing on his own now, recovering more with each passing second. A deep, guttural growl came from somewhere behind them.

“
What the. . .?” Jacob squealed.

“
Run!” Elijah shouted, and they were all moving again as fast as their legs would carry them.

***

Thomas awoke in darkness. At first he wondered if he was dead but the pain in his leg quickly told him he was alive and totally FUBAR’d. It took him a moment to remember where he was and how he got there. There was a small flashlight in his pocket and he twisted about on the floor as his fingers fished for it. As he sat up, one of his hands brushed against something wet and cold on the floor around him. He clicked on the flashlight to see a sheen of black pus coating the floor. Something was thumping about deeper in the living room. Thomas raised the flashlight, its beam shining onto old man Hall’s snarling face. Thomas lurched backwards in an attempt to put as much distance as he could between himself and the old man before he noticed that Hall wasn’t getting any closer. The old man’s face was a torn mess of shredded flesh. Five, deep, claw-like wounds ran from the top of his forehead to his neck. His jaw was barely attached on one side, swaying awkwardly, as the old man’s teeth chomped together over and over again as if he were already chewing on Thomas’ skin. One of his arms and the whole lower half of his body were merely gone. His intestines trailed behind him and had gotten wrapped around the leg of the large, handcrafted table in the middle of the room, holding him in a place like chains. Hall’s one arm clawed at the air, trying to get at him but Thomas was well far of the old man’s reach. Thomas carefully got to his feet, avoiding putting any weight on his injured leg. Only the grace of God had saved him from being rotter food while he was unconscious. Hall’s teeth continued to snap vainly as he looked up at Thomas.

Not wanting to waste a bullet, Thomas caved in the old man’s skull with the butt of his rifle. Thomas limped by the corpse, turning on a light. The top of the doorway leading into the kitchen was shattered, as if something huge had forced its shoulders though it. He could see pieces of the house’s backdoor covering the kitchen floor from where it must have exploded inward as something large had entered. The old man’s missing arm lay next to the sink like it had been flung there and forgotten. The ceiling was damaged too. Thomas knew this was the work of the beast he had encountered in the woods. There were footprints in the blood and pus slicking the floor. They looked very much like a barefoot human’s would except for their size. The prints were massive, several times the size of his own feet. A single word tumbled through his mind: Bigfoot. Leaning up against the broken doorway of the kitchen, Thomas caught his breath, trying hard to figure out what to do. Start with the leg, a rational voice from somewhere within him said, but all he wanted to do was run.

Thomas hobbled to the old man’s bathroom, tearing through the contents of its medicine cabinet until he found a bottle of rubbing alcohol. He poured the entire bottle over the wounds on his leg and nearly blacked out. When the pain subsided, he found some bandages in the mess he had made and plopped onto the toilet to wrap his leg. He was in no shape to try to get home but he wasn’t staying here. That much he knew for sure. He rather would deal with a horde of rotters than come face to face with the beast that had ripped its way in here and killed old man Hall. Exhausted and hurting, Thomas staggered from the house as the sun peeked over the tops of the distant mountains.

Old man Hall’s ancient and rusted truck sat parked behind the house. Thomas sank into its driver’s seat, happy to be off his feet again. He didn’t know squat about hotwiring a vehicle but he was going to have to learn and fast. He tore loose some wires from the steering wheel and hoped they were the correct ones. Five minutes later, after twisting various wires together and crossing his fingers, the truck’s engine turned over and came to life. The fuel gauge registered a bit under half a tank but that was more than he needed to get home. As he slammed the truck’s door, two rotters rounded the corner of the house, loping like marionettes with broken strings. When the things saw him they came rushing towards the truck, the smell of his flesh and warm blood driving them wild. Cursing, Thomas threw the pickup into drive and floored the gas. The old truck wasn’t fast enough. The quicker of the two rotters grabbed the open passenger side window and lunged into the cab with him. He slammed the truck into park and met it with a punch to its nose. Bone crunched beneath his knuckles. Thomas grabbed the thing by its hair, slamming its head against the dashboard. The rotter bared its teeth at him as it broke loose of his hold. Thomas unsheathed the bowie knife strapped to his the side of his right boot and drove it up into the soft flesh of the rotter’s chin. The tip of the blade protruded from the rotter’s hair for a fleeting second before Thomas put a hand on the thing’s forehead and yanked the blade free. Cold hands closed on his shoulders from behind. The other rotter had rounded the truck and was trying to pull him out through the driver’s side window. Thomas felt its dirty fingernails drag over the cloth of his shirt as he jerked away from it. He gunned the gas blindly. The truck leapt forward, sending the rotter flailing backwards as the truck left it behind. Thomas sat up, grabbing the wheel just in time to avoid crashing into the fence surrounding the pasture. Cutting the wheel hard, Thomas spun the truck to the side, bouncing along the narrow drive towards the road.

***

Jacob saw Elijah draw his swords as the rotters sprinted along the road at them. The things had come out of nowhere. They numbered a good dozen or more. Their hungry cries rose in pitch as they drew closer. Jacob didn’t have a clue how many bullets remained in his pistol’s clip. He just started shooting. His first shot caught a rotter in its shoulder, spraying brown, tainted blood, but did little else. The rotter didn’t even slow down. Lori’s hand must have been steadier because the rotter she aimed at did a half spin as her bullet blew a gaping hole in the gray flesh below its hairline. Helena froze. Jacob moved between her and the rotters as he tried for another shot and his pistol clicked empty. He cursed and fished in his pockets in a desperate attempt to find another clip. As he did so, Lori dropped two more of the creatures. Elijah sprang forward to meet the other rotters. He dove into their ranks, his swords slashing and hacking as fast as the beat of a hummingbird’s wings. Jacob watched in awe as Elijah took the heads off two of the creatures in a single fluid movement, then spun to slice the spine of a third with his left blade while his right plunged into another’s skull. Before the rotters’ bodies even touched the road, Elijah engaged two more. His right blade flashed, splitting a rotter’s face up its middle. Brain matter flew into the air above its scalp as the blade exited the top of its head. His left blade claimed the other rotter’s hand as it reached for him. Elijah stepped closer to the rotter, knocking it over. His swords spun above his head, twirling on his fingers, then met inside the rotter’s skull as they descended into the creature’s eyes. For all Elijah’s speed, the rotters were just too many. As Elijah rose to meet the next wave, a dead man in a football uniform plowed into him, taking him to the ground. As Elijah struggled with the dead man, the remaining two charged at Jacob. He kept Helena behind him and shoved Lori from their path.

Jacob met the first rotter, a dead woman in a torn blouse and blood-stained skirt, head on. His fist collided with her jaw, breaking it along with one of his knuckles. Jacob yelped, shaking his hand from the pain, as the woman staggered sideways. The second rotter, a heavily decayed older man in farmer’s overalls, scratched at the sleeve of his shirt. Jacob screamed as the farmer’s other hand closed around his throat. A dull thunk took Jacob by surprise. He felt the farmer’s grip go limp around his neck and the rotter fell forward into Jacob’s arms. One of Elijah’s throwing knives was buried in the backside of its skull. The farmer’s weight was too much for him. Jacob flopped to the ground with the rotter’s corpse on top of him. Jacob screamed louder, rolling the farmer off of him.

“
You idiot!” Lori yelled. “What were you thinking?”

“
What?” Jacob shouted, scrambling to his feet, rubbing his swollen fist. “I just saved your bloody life!”

He noticed Elijah walking over to them as they argued. The man was soaked in red, brown, and black goo. Before any of them could say anything more, a fresh chorus of snarls and howls erupted from the trees around them. He watched Elijah shift into a defensive posture, his blades ready for whatever was coming. An inhuman cry arose in the trees, followed by the sounds of battle.

“
Yeah!” Jacob yelled, jumping like a giddy schoolgirl. “Get ’em!”

“
I wouldn’t be too happy,” Elijah pointed out. “When it’s done with the rotters, we’re next on the menu.”

“
Shut up!” Lori told them both. “Do you hear that?”

Jacob listened closely. Something was coming up the road. A rusty and ancient looking Ford truck sped around the bend, angled straight for them. The driver must have seen them because the truck’s brakes squealed, trying to stop it. Its momentum was so great that the vehicle spun sideways across the road as it came to a stop. A tired, redneck man sat in the driver’s seat staring at them with his mouth hanging open in pure shock.

“
Who the Hell are you?” Jacob asked.

“
Guess right now, I’m the guy saving your butts,” the redneck laughed, “but you can call me Thomas.”

A gnawed-upon arm came flying from the woods to land near the truck as the night fell quiet once more.

“
I suggest you folks hop in. I ain’t staying around to find out what’s going on here. I gotta feeling, I don’t want to know.”

Thomas was already turning the truck as Elijah, Lori, and Helena leapt into its bed. Jacob slid into the passenger seat. He noticed Thomas’s leg. “You okay, man?”

“
I’ll live, I reckon,” Thomas answered.

“
Go!” Jacob heard Elijah yell from the back of the truck as a massive beast came lumbering onto the road behind them.

“
What is that thing?” Jacob muttered as it punched a tree, cracking its trunk.