by Edward Crae
Max, wide-eyed and panicked, rushed toward him just as a hail of bullets hit the gravel around him. He made it just in time, cowering behind Cliff and Travis as Drew surveyed the scene. Mason and his men stalked through the opening where the gate was, firing randomly at the sheds in their line of sight. One of them took a sledgehammer to the Hummer, smashing the windows and the armored panels. Another shot out the tires.
“Assholes,” Drew said, raising his rifle.
He fired a few rounds in Mason’s direction, not able to get the man in his sights. Mason ducked behind the pickup, and his men followed suit. Drew felt a tapping on his shoulder. He turned to see Max holding an attachment-type weapon in his hand; one that would clip onto the bottom picatinny rail of his M4A1.
“M204 grenade launcher,” Max said. “I stuck it in my pocket earlier. Two grenades, too.”
Drew smiled, taking the launcher as Cliff and Travis laid down some cover fire.
“You know your weapons, man,” Drew said.
“Thank God for first person shooters,” Max replied.
Amid the numerous gunshots, Drew managed to attach the M204 underneath the barrel of his rifle. He loaded the two grenades into it, cocked it, and waited for a good opportunity to make an impression. Cliff growled as he fired, then paused a moment to give Drew a nod.
“Hit the pickup,” Cliff shouted.
Drew leaned out around the corner, leveling the launcher to what he thought was a good angle, and then pulled the trigger. The grenade shot out with a deafening bang, passing over the pickup to explode into a tree behind it.
“Shit,” he cursed, cocking the weapon again.
“Do it,” Travis said. “They’re getting ready to run.”
Drew leaned out again, lowering the weapon a bit, and fired again. There was only a split second between firing and the impact of the grenade. The pickup was blown off its tires just as Mason and his men leaped out of the way.
“Jesus Christ,” Drew said, feeling the heat wave of the explosion.
Cliff disappeared around the corner of the nearby shed, moving to a better position. Travis ran behind Drew, crouching to reload his shotgun. Drew peeked around the corner again, seeing the pickup in flames, flipped over on its side, and FUBARed. Unfortunately, the Hummer had taken massive damage as well.
“Fuck,” Drew said. “I blew up the Hummer, too.”
“That was bound to happen given its proximity to the target,” Max said. “But it’s just a vehicle. We’ll find another.”
“There was still beer in there,” Drew said. “And whiskey.”
“Screw the whiskey,” Travis said, finally loaded up. “Let’s go.”
They sprinted to the cluster of other sheds, taking positions at separate corners. Drew made sure Max was carrying his MP5, which he was, but was quite sure Max wasn’t ready to use it. He quickly scanned the area closer to the office building, looking for any movement. Behind a barrel, he saw Lena’s face peeking out, and the dark shape of a handgun in her grasp. He waved his hand toward her, mouthing the words, “Stay back.” She nodded and leaned back in out of sight.
“This bears a striking similarity to an online deathmatch,” Max said.
He was right. Only this wasn’t a game, and there would be no respawns.
He heard the rapid fire of an M4A1, and looked in Cliff’s direction. He had gunned down a sprinting man as he turned the corner. Travis was facing away from Cliff, but in Drew’s sights. To the doctor’s left, Drew saw movement. He raised his rifle, waiting for the intruder to creep his way into his sights. His target saw him, dropping his jaw in shock just as Drew fired a round into his face.
“Follow me,” Drew said to Max, leading him around another shed.
There was more gunfire, then a shotgun blast. Travis came running around the next shed, pumping his shotgun. “Got one,” he shouted.
“There is no need for anyone else to die!” the familiar voice of Mason shouted. “Just give us the two assholes and we’ll be on our way.”
“Come and get them!” Cliff shouted back.
There was silence for a moment. Drew locked eyes with Cliff, seeing him nod his head in Max’s direction. Drew turned and slid past the gamer, peering around the corner. There he saw another man sneaking their way, hugging the wall of the empty shed where Melanie was held captive. He could hear the dog barking, and Melanie slamming her fists against the inside wall. The stranger paused, as if listening. Drew shot him through the right eye.
He rejoined Max, nodding to Cliff that he had gotten the “sneaker”.
“You’ve already killed several of my men,” Mason said, not shouted. “They were my friends. I know what it’s like to lose friends. Surely you don’t want to lose anymore. Give them up and be done with it.”
A woman—probably Lena—let out a scream. It was followed by a rifle blast, and then a large caliber handgun blast. Travis glanced at him wide-eyed, then peeked around his own corner to shoot Cliff a questioning look. Cliff shrugged.
“That sounded like a .357,” Max whispered. “Lena has a .357.”
“I thought Melanie didn’t like guns here,” Drew said. “And we didn’t bring any .357s.”
Max shrugged.
The sounds of footfalls on the gravel brought them back to reality. Several men were headed their way. Travis turned to his left, raising the shotgun as he side-stepped toward Drew. He let out two blasts in quick succession, rolling over to land next to Drew and Max.
“Damn it,” he growled. “That hurt. Got two of ‘em.”
Drew patted him on the back, and dashed to the next shed, going around it and toward Cliff. Before he could get Cliff’s attention, the man disappeared around the corner. A hail of automatic fire followed, and then a triumphant “booyah!”
There was more gunfire, another shotgun blast, and even a short burst of 9mm fire. Max had fired.
“Good going, Max,” he said to himself.
He turned the corner and fired on full auto toward another group, dropping two of them before his mag was empty. He ducked back, squatting to drop his magazine and load another. But he had no others.
“Fuck,” he whispered.
He turned around to go back to Max and the others, stopping dead in his tracks as he saw Mason standing there, smiling.
“Found you,” he said, raising a revolver and pointing it right at Drew’s face. The world seemed to slow down then, and Drew’s heart pounded in his ears. His vision blurred as Mason’s smile slowly spread across his face. The triple click of a revolver hammer being cocked echoed in his ears like a horror movie.
This is it, he thought. What a bullshit way to go.
Drew closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and waited for the deafening blast.
Melanie pounded her fists against the walls, cursing and growling in rage in the total darkness. Mami whined and scratched at the door, causing light to flash in periodically as the doors were pushed slightly open with her efforts.
Melanie pictured the faces of the two hated intruders. Their smug looks and beady eyes were burned into her brain, and those metal images released adrenaline into her body. She loved the hot, quickened feeling it gave her; she always had. She never felt more alive than when she was enraged. Hatred and conflict fueled her. It was her “crack”.
“Let me out!!!!” she hissed through clenched teeth.
Her anger built, stacking more and more hatred onto the heap, and releasing more and more adrenaline into her blood. It pushed her harder and harder until she felt the hot flood of blood on her knuckles and the pain of rage in her chest.
She loved it.
She would have her reign back, she swore. She would kill Dan and Drew as an example to the others. They would respect and fear her once more, and her rules would be enforced with the threat of death. Even Lena’s demon child—that little pussy—wasn’t safe from her wrath. Maybe she would kill him, too, just to fuck with that bitch’s head.
Maybe she would let Mami chew the kid’s face off and eat it right i
n front of his mother. That would show her—and the others.
She stopped banging her fists and stepped back, grinning like The Joker as she pictured Mami licking the blood off of Toby’s skinless face. She felt the euphoric building of joy in her gut, and the choking laughter of a madman escaped from her lips.
She would have her revenge.
Chapter Twelve
Dan stared in shock as the giant cocoon slowly ripped open. Slime poured out, hanging like massive runs of snot descending from a giant nostril. He could hear Eric gasp in fear, and saw him back away out of the corner of his eye. He felt the urge to flee—which he could probably do…
…if only the door wasn’t blocked with the writhing bodies of the dead.
“Eric,” he whispered. “This is going to take both of us.”
Eric didn’t answer, but Dan heard the clicking sound of Eric’s massive fist squeezing the barrel shroud of his rifle.
As Dan watched the slime descend to the floor, he pictured the Robert creature in his head. He imagined that this is what it looked like when the horrifying mutated serial killer finally emerged from the cocoon in his storeroom. He imagined the maniacal laughter that would follow once Robert realized what he was then.
Then, he pictured Vincent’s head rolling past him in the dim light of the moon. He saw Vincent’s eyes fading away. Finally, he heard the deep, demonic laughter that followed. Then the appearance of Vincent’s killer as it rose, pale as death, from the glowing mist.
Then, he heard the familiar jingle bell sound echoing in his ears; that satanic sleigh of death that accompanied the frightening creatures.
“Fuck you,” he whispered, raising his rifle and letting loose.
Blood and slime splattered from the bullet holes as the veiny white flesh was ruptured. Eric let loose as well, as the spray of foul liquid splattered them both. An unearthly howl erupted from the cocoon as its occupant was torn apart, and the cocoon finally ripped open fully. Its contents fell to the floor in a screaming mass of rage and flailing limbs.
Dan and Eric both stared, slack-jawed, as the pale, slimy thing writhed on the floor. It was a mass of limbs and tentacles, whirling and scrambling rapidly as it tried to stand. There was something odd about it, Dan saw; something that didn’t seem quite right. There were too many arms, too many legs, too many…
…faces!
“Jesus Christ,” Eric growled. “It’s two of them, stuck together.”
Eric was right. As the creature rose, Dan saw that it was indeed a stalker; two of them melded together like conjoined twins from hell. They were melded back to back, but the rear creature’s head was twisted around to the front, fighting for dominance with the other head. The two macabre, fanged maws snapped repeatedly, and four clawed arms reached toward them.
“Kill it!” Dan shouted.
The two men parted, releasing a spray of bullets from each of their rifles. Dan emptied his, ducking behind a pew and dropping the empty mag on the floor. Before he could slap in another, the creature howled a deafening cry, and the pews in front of Dan were uprooted and flung to the doors, where they crashed and splintered.
Dan jumped up, pulling back the charging handle, and let loose again just as the creature pounced toward him. He was sprayed with slime as he ducked out of the way, and the creature’s claws swiped at thin air before it landed with a splattering impact that shook the floor.
“Into the back!” Dan shouted, sprinting toward the doors behind the pulpit.
Eric crashed through the vertical paneled door without any effort at all. It shattered with his weight, splintering into a million nicely-stained pieces. Dan followed him, turning to fire more rounds into the creature as it recovered.
“What the hell is that thing?” Eric asked, horrified.
Dan checked his ammo supply. He was low, and he had dropped one of his mags on the floor of the chapel.
“No fucking clue, man,” he said. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Eric paced in terror as he sought out a route for them to go. Dan spied another door on the other side of the room, open and leading into the darkness. He pictured the church basement in Oolitic.
“Fuck man,” he said as the creature crashed through the shattered doors. “The last time I was in a church basement…”
The creature howled in rage, prompting the two men to sprint at the opposite door. It was their only chance. It was their only—
It was a closet.
“Fuck!” Dan shouted.
The creature squeezed its way down the short hallway, struggling to get through as it bulk became wedged. Dan looked around for another route. The one window that was to his right was small, but at waist level. He ran toward it, ready to bust it out with the butt of his rifle, but the way was blocked. Dozens of shufflers were outside, crowding the window. Among them he saw a shambler, and behind the small horde, two more of the pale white ghoulish things.
“Damn it,” he whispered.
“This way,” Eric said, waving to Dan.
The big man had found a stairway leading up, situated in the corner behind a row of cabinets. Dan followed him, keeping his eye on the hellish mutant as it finally burst into the room. Before they could disappear up the stairs, the creature roared in fury, both of its dripping maws spewing the sounds of tortured demons.
“Go, go, go!” Dan urged him on; desperate to get as much space between him and the beast as possible.
They charged upward through the dark stairwell, turning a corner at the top and vaulting another set of stairs. Below, the creature’s crashing footfalls shook the church, knocking sconces and small crosses from the walls.
When they reached the top, there was a heavy wooden door blocking their way. Eric slammed his shoulder against it, jarring it, but it stayed in place. Dan reached for the knob, finding it unlocked, and pushed it open. The steps shook as the creature gained ground on them.
Eric slammed the door shut behind them, pressing his weight against it. “Find something to keep it shut!” he shouted.
Dan shouldered his weapon, scrambling to drag a heavy chest of drawers across the wooden floor. He strained with all his might, grunting with the effort, and the chest slid loudly across the hardwood. Eric was jolted as the creature slammed against the door, and he barely moved out of the way as Dan slid the chest against it. The two of them pushed it tight against the door, stepping back breathless as the angry barrage continued.
“What the hell do we do now?” Eric gasped, resting his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.
Dan, breathless as well, shook his head. “Find another way out,” he said. “Somewhere onto the roof maybe. We could get down and set the church on fire.”
Eric scoffed. “With what?” he asked. “I don’t have a lighter. Do you?”
Fuck, Dan thought, searching his pockets. He had one before, he remembered. He must have dropped it. It wouldn’t have done any good anyway, he realized. They had no fuel to dowse the floors and walls with.
“Shit,” he said, looking around.
There was a stainless steel conduit running down the wall and into the floor. It looked like a propane line. He followed the other end of the line with his eyes, seeing it disappear into a wall-mounted ventless heater.
“Here we go,” Dan said. “If there’s any gas left in the propane tank outside, we got a fire.”
“Will that be enough?” Eric asked. “These lines only carry about fifteen pounds of pressure.”
“We might not need it.”
He ran to the ventless heater, grasping the propane line tightly. “Help me pull it loose,” he said. “We’ll fill the room with gas and ignite it with a ricochet spark or something.”
“Wait,” Eric said, pulling out his knife. “The tube on the inside is plastic.”
The creature continued slamming against the door, cracking the wood and jolting the chest of drawers. Dan watched with wide eyes, hoping Eric could cut through the coiled steel in enough time. But
he realized, even if he could, there was still no way to ignite the gas for sure. There was no guarantee either one of them could manage a ricochet perfect enough to spark. He wasn’t even sure lead would spark.
When he heard the thick hiss of gas, and smelled the funky additive, he glanced at Eric again. “Now what?” he asked.
Eric backed away, holding his rifle at the door. “I don’t know,” he said. “But when that thing busts through, I’m unloading the rest of my magazine into its face.”
Good Idea, Dan thought. It might be their last move, but hey, whatever.
“It was nice to meet you, Eric,” Dan said, half-heartedly.
“Yeah,” Eric laughed. “My dad’s gonna be pissed. Drew’s fucked.”
Dan grinned as they backed away. He glanced behind him, seeing one smaller window that opened up onto the roof. They could climb through it; even Eric could fit. Then, they could ignite the gas somehow and wait for the imminent boom. Maybe.
He busted out the glass just as the wooden door and chest of drawers exploded into the room. “Follow me,” he said.
Eric moved toward him, looking like he was going to fulfill his promise to empty his last rounds into the creature. He decided against it. Dan stepped out onto the roof, steadying himself so as not to slide down the steep peak. Eric stepped out behind him, slipping, and dropping his rifle. The weapon slid down to the gutter, and Eric barely caught himself on the window sill.
Inside the creature hissed and howled, charging across the room, dragging its conjoined twin along with it. Dan took one last look at its horrifying face, raising his rifle to fire one last shot. He took aim at the heater unit, hoping and praying to himself that his bullet would cause a spark. Just as the beast was passing the heater, Dan fired and ducked out of the way, hanging onto the window sill right next to Eric.
He heard an explosion, and felt the heatwave on his hands. The creature howled in rage, and Dan could hear it thrashing and flailing. He lifted himself up enough to gaze into the open window. There, inside the large room, the creature spun and rolled, completely engulfed in flames. The severed end of the propane line flapped around with a jet of flame shooting out, igniting every dry wooden surface it touched.
