by Matt James
We both react on instinct and draw our guns. She yanks hers from the waistband around her back—just as I do the same with the Glock in my shoulder holster. She sits up on my stomach and fires two shots in time with me, and the creature falls, landing ten feet from us, four clean holes in its chest and abdomen.
Jill rocks forward, exhausted and beat, landing on top of me once more. Her deadweight again knocks the wind from my lungs, but thankfully she’s coherent enough to quickly climb off and rolls to the ground beside me groaning.
She breathes heavily, laying a hand across my chest. “Sorry…didn’t mean…to…”
I wave her off and try to sit up. The world around me is a warzone, and my head is woozy. The newest knock to the skull from the car door has really dazed me, not to mention whatever hit me when a fucking building fell on me. I didn’t realize how bad it was until I try to sit up. The blood rushing back up to my head definitely reminds me though.
“Ugh,” I mumble, holding my good hand to my head. “Feels like I got in a fistfight after a night of heavy drinking.”
Jill gets to her feet first and then helps me to mine. She takes care of avoiding my bleeding left hand, grimacing at the sight of it.
“Can you move it?” she asks, looking it over.
I try to bend it, but cringe. It flexes slightly, almost forming a fist, but the pain is too much, and I stop. “If I have to, yes.”
She nods and looks around. “We’re halfway down West End. If we keep going and then turn right at 72nd, we can still make it to the river.”
I nod. “Okay. Let’s get moving before another building falls on us.”
Jill cracks up and laughs a little, which makes me laugh a little too…which makes me wince in pain. The leap for life from the seventh-floor fire escape has undoubtedly taken its toll on my body, especially with what else I’ve personally gone through.
“Oh, sorry.”
I shake her off. “It’s not you, it was the swan dive from the seventh story…”
Oops.
I look up and see her face. I just remembered I neglected to tell her about that part for this exact reason.
Her eyebrows furrow in anger. “The what?”
37
Lucky for us the next set of buildings fell as we ran, interrupting Jill’s tirade about jumping from fire escapes and the dangers of it. I’m tired and broken and regret letting that doozy of an escape slip. It’s really the last thing I wanted to discuss. But in the end, she just shook her head and ran.
The south side of 72 extends for a full block while the north side of the street ends halfway as it meets Riverside Drive. Riverside then continues north along the Hudson River’s western bank. Between it and the roadway is an array of beautiful waterfront parks and other recreational areas, including the dog park we’re headed towards now.
Dogs... Son of a bitch!
I keep the revelation to myself, hoping the dog park is empty. But knowing how beautiful the day was—besides the low temperature of course—I’m sure we’re bound to run into a couple Cujo-looking pups.
I look back and watch as the rest of the block east of West End collapses in on itself. Then I see the ones to either side do the same. Then more. What must be six square blocks running back to Central Park fall to pieces, forced to the ground by the ever-increasing earthquakes.
Our block, the one we are running next to, starts to do the same as the red dome of light expands again, literally eating the city. If it’s a complete circle like most domes are, then everything on the other side is gone too. I’m not exactly sure if the light is actually causing any of the damage or not either, or if it’s just a byproduct of the energy Abaddon is giving off at the moment.
As we continue our escape, I suddenly hear someone screaming for help. Jill and I both stop and quickly turn, looking for the voice, but don’t immediately see anyone.
Finally, Jill spots him as he shambles over the broken rubble. It’s a younger man, maybe twenty, and he’s covered in blood. I’d say he just survived one of the crumbling buildings and was now emerging, but the way he’s running is like he’s being chased by something. I can’t see exactly what from our lower vantage point.
It’s only until they clear the hill made of wreckage that I get a good look at what’s pursuing the guy. Three goblins of massive size launch themselves over an enormous pile of concrete and steel. It’s the same heap belonging to the building that Jill and I got buried under.
They must be eight or maybe even nine feet tall but built like an anorexic basketball player. They can’t weigh much more than me, but are easily two-to-three feet taller, giving them an almost extraterrestrial look.
“What the…” Jill says, astonished by the sudden appearance of the newest monstrosities. “How?”
I don’t get a chance to answer. Instead, we get a live show.
The red dome of light spreads further, increases its girth, reaching out to the younger man. Once it kisses his body, he pauses his escape, instantly rising into the air. It’s like he’s just levitating off the ground or something, arms and legs outspread, a look of abject horror on his face. I can’t hear the scream. I’m not even sure if it’s audible or one of silence, but it’s for damn sure hurting him.
Then, he changes.
First, his bones snap like a thunderclap, breaking and healing, breaking and healing until they continue to lengthen. With every change, he starts to take on more and more of the same characteristics of the other ones, the greys. It’s an appropriate name considering they have an eerie resemblance to the famous grey alien popular in Hollywood. Tall, extremely lean, and from above.
As the energy field, fully engulfs him his eyes simply burst with a chorus of sickening pops, making Jill and I flinch in terror and disgust.
He falls from his two-foot flight and lands, collapsing onto one knee. It’s when he looks up towards us that I start to pull Jill back the other way.
“Oh, damn… Shoot it!” I yell, drawing my gun and aiming for the one nearest us.
Jill joins in, and we quickly take down two of the four.
The newly turned grey leaps into motion, scaling the building’s remains like a spider monkey, making it hard for me to get a clean shot off. My shotgun is gone too, buried and lost.
It pauses and flexes, ready to leap into the air, giving me the moment I need to readjust and steady my aim. I put two in its chest and another in its head, dropping it in a gangly pile of limbs.
The one Jill was shooting at is limping, but still coming. It doesn’t get far though once I add the rest of my clip into it.
“Holy shit,” she says, breathing hard. “Note to self… Don’t get touched by the light.”
“Blinded by the light…” I mumble, repeating the lyrics to the Manfred Mann’s Earth Band song.
I get a look from Jill and shrug. “Sorry, but it seemed appropriate considering it’s how they changed, to begin with.”
“It’s not that…” she then releases her clip from her gun, checking it over. “I’m almost out.” She then slams it home. “Three left.”
I nod, reloading my own gun with the last of my ammo. “Hopefully we’ll get to the water before you need to use the rest.”
We turn and haul ass, praying we don’t need those bullets.
Riverside Drive appears, and instead of continuing down 72nd, we bank diagonally across the intersection and head down one of the footpaths instead, towards the dog park. My mumbling of, “Please no dogs, please no dogs, please no dogs,” must be heard because Jill reacts.
“What are you saying?”
I stop and catch my breath, not seeing any large structures that can come down on us. The only damage I could see coming is from the trees surrounding us, but I’ll take that chance. I can’t see how dodging a falling tree could be harder than a damn building.
“We’re about to get to the West 72nd Street Dog Run,” I say, trying to explain without coming out and saying it.
“So,” she says, shruggi
ng.
Her eyebrows raise, but not in understanding. I’m facing the road, watching the last of the block’s buildings come down, which has her facing the water…and the dog park.
“Cujo’s right behind me, isn’t he?”
Surprisingly she shakes her head, no.
What then?
I turn, my mouth hanging open at the sight. There isn’t a Cujo behind me… There are six of them. All hungry. All snarling and ready to pounce. They range in breed and size, but luckily, I know something ninety-nine-percent of all dogs suck at…
“Up the trees, now!”
I go right and leap onto the first tree I see, doing my best Curious George impression. Thankfully, like most young boys, when I was a kid, this was where we spent most of our time. Outside was the playground, not video games or television. Florida has year-round outside weather too, giving a child no excuse for staying indoors. The only time you couldn’t was during a bad storm.
Safely a good six feet or so off the ground, I reach back to Jill and almost get my hand taken off. One of the Cujo-dogs jumped up after me and tried to have a nibble.
“Gah!” I incoherently yell, kicking the thing in the face.
“Frank!”
I look across the path and see Jill barely out of reach of another bigger dog. The German Shepherd might be able to get to her eventually, but I don’t intend for that to happen. I draw my gun and try to shoot the thing in the back, but the ground under us starts to shake and bounce again. The pooches whimper, but keep up with their attack.
CRACK.
I watch as Jill’s tree gets uprooted a little by the latest quake and starts to list to the right. If it falls, it will come tipping into me.
Think dammit, think. The only thing that might work is if her tree tips over and hits my thicker, stronger tree, it might just absorb the impact and hold steady. I quickly glance down and see that my tree’s roots are still intact and underground, holding firm.
I decide that it’s worth a shot and relay the plan to Jill.
“Climb as high as you can and hold tight. Your tree is coming this way. I need you to grab hold of a branch or something when it comes crashing over.”
She scrambles higher, indicating that she heard me, just as a big bastard nips the branch I’m sitting on. The thing almost took a bite out of my ass. Time to move higher.
I stand and grab for a higher handhold, but can’t as the ground shakes again. It’s as violent a quake as we’ve seen so far, causing the ground—paved walkways included—to crack. Decade-old trees uproot next, causing the others around me to fall.
Including Jill’s.
The splitting wood sounds like a gunshot and startles a couple of the dogs off. Three of the six remain, however. There’s still enough savagery to do us both in. With the ground shaking as bad as it is, neither one of us will be able to get a clean shot off without it zinging wide. Ammo is already in short supply. We don’t need to add to the scarcity by shooting wildly.
Worry about that after Jill gets clear.
I grab onto a limb above me and pull, ascending quickly now. The lower branches are farther apart and thicker, making them a little tougher to reach and maneuver. Once I get to the next level of branches, it becomes ten times easier.
“Ready?” I yell over to her while paying attention to my own task.
“As ready as I can—”
With a thunderclap of splitting wood, the tree falls…fast. It slams into my perch with such a force that I’m almost knocked off. It’s a twenty-plus foot drop and would have easily broken something…or killed me.
I feel a hand grip mine and open my eyes. I didn’t even realize I closed them. Jill is looking at me from around the trunk of my tree. She’s only inches from my face and is bleeding heavily from a gash on her forehead. Blood pulsates down her nose and into her mouth, but she doesn’t react. She just stays there her eyes wide in shock. She’s trying to process what just happened.
“You okay?” I ask in between quakes.
She nods, staring off into the distance.
“I mean besides the cut on your head.”
She nods again, one-hundred-percent space cadet at the moment.
“Babe?”
Her eyes dart to mine, and I see them focus just a little. Then, they dilate and blink. She was definitely in a form of shock and far be it for me to try and diagnose her. I’m not one to check WebMD every time something hurts when I fart or sneeze.
“We’re almost done,” I say, gripping her hand. “The water is right there,” I point to the west, being able to see it over the nearby highway, “but we need to keep moving.”
She nods again and takes in her new tree.
While she gets acclimated, I look around for our four-legged friends. One is dead, crushed by the trunk of Jill’s tree. The two remaining are still circling us, but are confused by the rumbling ground beneath their paws. Dogs are hypersensitive to stuff like this, and now with Abaddon’s upgrades, their sensory systems are probably being overloaded.
“Better for us,” I mumble.
“What?” Jill asks, hearing me.
“The dogs,” I reply, motioning to the area below us. “They’re waiting, but are having problems with the quakes. The Unseen hunt with scent and sound, but a dog can feel things that people can’t. I think we can make a break for it during the next set of quakes.”
She bites her lip, thinking it over. “You’re the expert.”
I try to argue the fact that I’m not, but then again… Who knows more about these things than me right now? I think the answer is pretty apparent…
Another tree to our right snaps as the shaking starts up again.
I look into my wife’s beautiful eyes and nod. “Let’s go.”
She starts her descent, with me quickly catching up. We reach the bottom portion of branches and stop. With a violent upheaval, I get jarred from my footing and slip. No better time than the present to make my dismount, I guess.
“Go!”
She jumps, and I fall. I take the impact on my good shoulder, attempting to roll at the same moment. This time the ground stirring actually helps redistribute the force, so I’m not dying from the blow when I try to stand.
Until a dog leaps for my throat…
38
I fall back on my ass as Cujo attacks. As I hit, I reach for the first thing I see on the ground next to me. The branch is thick and looks durable enough to hold up.
I shove it into the hellhound’s mouth sideways, keeping it at bay for the moment. Its jaws tighten and crack the dense wood.
Well, shit. So much for that.
The report from a series of gunshots echoes from somewhere out of my view. It’s not like I could look right now if I wanted to. Jill is going to have to fend for herself for now.
I wince as the wood splinters again, throwing pieces of it into my face. Nothing hurts me, but it still guarantees that this branch is about done. Now the only thing in the way of the dog is the thinnest of kindling.
The ground starts to shake again, causing the dog to let up just a bit. It’s not enough for it to let go or for me to get away, but it is enough for me to get a leg underneath it and push. As I do, I reach for my belt and pull my knife free, burying it into one of the dog’s mangled eye sockets. It instantly slumps, crushing the branch the rest of the way in its last ounce of strength.
“Maybe…cats…aren’t so bad,” I say, staring into the reddening sky.
“Maybe…”
I hear Jill’s voice and then she steps into view above me. I also see she’s holding her gun too which lets me assume she killed the other dog.
Then, I look at her other arm and gasp. Bite marks envelop her left forearm, and they’re deep. She’s not going to lose the arm or anything, but she is definitely going to need significant medical attention. Instead of slipping the gun back into her pants, she just tosses it away. Empty. She then reaches down for me with her good hand.
My eyes ask the question.
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“I’m fine for now,” she says as blood runs down her fingers, dripping to the grass. “Won’t matter unless we keep going though, right?”
I nod and take her offered hand, standing. We both grunt with the effort, holding one another for a moment. The increasing waves of motion underfoot get us moving again, and we take off farther down the cracked footpath, following it forward.
After the short jog, we come to a tunnel that leads under the Henry Hudson Parkway. Directly on the other side is another ballfield and then the water. We’ve been over here a few times, mostly in the summer months. It’s the closest thing we have to water sports living in the city, and being from Florida…it’s a reminder of home.
The short jaunt through the passage is uneventful, and we keep going, heading left around the fence enclosed field. Seeing it reminds me of the one Vinny and I had to plow through while trying to shake loose the mob of Unseen. It was another of my miraculous escapes and one I hope to never think about again.
Bodies cover the Hudson River Greenway—a footpath bordering the water—making us slow a bit. The public kayaking dock is only a short distance further to the south. Even from here I can see a few floatables tied off, sloshing in the surf being kicked up by the cold winter wind.
The snowfall worsens and the hawk is coming through in spades. The hawk is the cold winter wind Chicago is known for and something I learned from Bruce Willis in another of his movies, the Hudson Hawk.
“Shit, Frank,” Jill says as she steps onto the dock, shaking from the cold. She’s holding herself with her uninjured arm, letting the bleeding one hang to her side.
How is she going to paddle?
I sprint out onto the pier and hastily search for something larger, finding only one of them, but it’s in bad shape. The canoe has a crack in its hull and may not survive a trip across the freezing water.
No choice, though.
A sound of cracking and snapping gets my attention as the dock protests and gives, attempting to spill Jill and me into the murky water. There is zero visibility in the Hudson and finding your way back to the surface is almost impossible—never mind the cold sapping your strength first. Even in the warm months, it’s hard to do.
