Redneck Apocalypse

by Eric S. Brown

  Claire flew down the road in the direction of town, pushing ninety miles per hour. As Danny jerked her wheel this way and that, keeping the vehicle in the road despite its twists and turns, he thought about Scott. The man might have been a jerk sometimes but no one deserved to die like that, lying there helpless as two animal like things tore him apart and ate him alive. It took all of Danny’s will to fight the nausea that threatened to spray his late dinner onto Claire’s windshield.

  He had seen stuff like what had just happened in the driveway in horror films but that wasn’t the same as real life. He forced away the image of one of the beasts yanking Scott’s arm from his body and gnawing on it like a chicken leg. Cursing himself, Danny knew he didn’t have time for this. He needed to focus. There was a lot more than one of the monsters and somehow they had managed to find him at his house. He didn’t have a clue on how they had tracked him there but his gut told him they wanted vengeance for what he had done to their brother on the Parkway. They weren’t going to stop until blood answered blood.

  Danny slammed on Claire’s brakes. She spun sideways in the road but Danny kept control of her enough not to go sliding off into the drainage ditches along the edge of the road.

  He realized that if they were after him that meant they’d be after Richard too. He backed Claire around in a sharp turn and threw her into drive again. Richard’s house was in the opposite direction he had been heading. It wasn’t far and he owed Richard for saving his life on the Parkway. Danny kept a spare bow in Claire’s trunk. It definitely wasn’t as good as a gun, but it would do. Plus he was better with a bow anyway.

  Danny left Claire running as he hopped out into Richard’s drive. He popped her trunk and retrieved his bow from it. As he draped his quiver onto his back, he took his first good look at Richard’s house. The lights were out but that didn’t mean anything. Danny started up the steps to the porch but stopped as he saw that the screen door was gone. He notched an arrow. There were clumps of brown hair and smears of blood on the door’s frame as if something had roughly squeezed its way inside in a hurry.

  “Richard!” Danny shouted at the top of his lungs. “You in there?”

  Only silence answered him.

  Danny walked around the house, searching for the rear door. He found it shattered and the pieces of it scattered about on the floor of the washroom inside. Peering into the house, he saw something glinting in the dim moonlight that leaked through the gathering rain clouds. The floor was covered with them. They lay among the shards of woods. It took him a second to realize what they were. They were spent shell casings. It looked as if Richard had made a stand here, firing into the washroom from the interior doorway that led deeper into the house.

  Danny stood there trying to decide what to do next. Heading on into the house seemed like a very bad idea.

  “Richard!” he shouted again. Still there was no answer from Richard or any sign of the beasts that might be lingering around.

  Danny returned to where he’d left Claire, moving slowly, with his bow ready as he went. He sat the bow and quiver in the passenger seat and pulled on his seat belt. He wished he had a cell phone but neither he nor Scott had ever seen the need for one of the things. He regretted the choice now. There was nothing to do but drive on into town and try to find the sheriff. Corrupt or not, it was Bryson’s job to keep the peace and deal with this sort of stuff.

  Before Danny could shift Claire into drive, a car came up the drive behind him, blocking him in. He was so freaked out he didn’t see that it was a patrol car until Bryson got out of it.

  “Evening Danny,” Bryson grinned at him as he moved to stand beside Claire’s driver side door.

  “Sheriff Bryson!” Danny exclaimed. “Thank God!”

  Bryson flinched at his unexpected outburst.

  “Scott’s dead, sir. I think Richard might be too. We need to—”

  “Whoa, son,” Bryson stopped him. “Slow down. What ya mean Scott and Richard are dead?”

  “That’s what I am trying to tell you, sir,” Danny started again.

  “That a bow in the seat next to you?” Bryson asked. “Little late to be out hunting ain’t it?”

  “You’re not listening to me!” Danny shouted into Bryson’s face. “Damn it! Those things are after me!”

  “What things?” Bryson asked, suddenly listening to him intently.

  “The monsters,” Danny explained. “Like the one Richard and I killed. There are more of them.”

  Bryson reeled backwards as if he’d been struck. His hand went to his holster, drawing his Glock, as he eyed the trees around Richard’s house. “Get out of that car,” Bryson ordered.

  Danny shook his head. “We need to leave right now, sir. I’m telling you they killed Scott and from the look of things here, they went after Richard too. They could still be here.”

  Bryson’s head whipped around. He stared at Danny with a mixed expression of fear, guilt, and confusion. “I … I was coming out here to pay Richard a visit myself.”

  Danny looked Bryson over, his gaze lingering on Bryson’s gun. The sheriff held it aimed at him. Then it sank in what the sheriff had meant by what he had just said.

  “I don’t want any trouble, Sheriff Bryson. Besides, we got bigger problems to worry with. Those things aren’t staying in the woods anymore. We need to stop them somehow before they make it to town. That’s your job, isn’t it?”

  “Don’t you tell me what my job is, boy,” Bryson warned but nonetheless he lowered his Glock. “How many are there?” he asked through a growl.

  “At least four more. I left two at my house and there look to have been that many or more here that came after Richard. We have to stop them. If they get into Sylva, Lord only knows how much damage they’ll do.”

  Bryson grunted. “Hold up. You said they were after you.”

  Danny nodded. “Yeah. I think so. They must of got Richard and my scent or something and they’re out for blood.”

  “Then they ain’t going to town, Danny, and neither are we. If it’s really you they want, we’re staying right here.”

  Danny started to protest but thought better of it.

  “We’re gonna make our stand here,” Bryson said, “You’re our bait.”

  “That’s insane!” Danny raged. “You can’t—”

  Bryson swung the barrel of his Glock towards Danny again. “Shut up. This all started because of that idiot trucker friend of yours. Then you and Richard made it worse. How I see it, son, is that you got two choices. Help me stop these things, or I just shoot you in the head and leave them your corpse. Either way is fine with me. You understand that?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Now, I’m gonna get us some help. You get on in that house and find yourself a real weapon. Knowing Richard, there’ll be quite a few to pick from.”

  Danny shook his head. “Let me grab something from Richard’s work shed, and my bow will do just fine.”

  “Whatever,” Bryson mumbled, already heading towards his patrol car. He picked up its radio. “Paul? You there?”

  “Read you loud and clear,” Paul’s voice answered.

  “Get me everybody, Paul. I want every deputy we got left, including you, out at Richard Matheson’s place pronto. Break out the AR-15s, too. We’re gonna need them.”

  “On it,” Paul answered.

  “And Paul, call the Fletchers, too,” Bryson added reluctantly.

  There was a pause before Paul asked, “You sure about that sheriff?”

  “Just do it!” Bryson snapped and tossed the radio inside the car.

  The Fletchers were the mayor’s personal muscle. The two brothers were the closest thing to Mafia enforcers that the small town of Sylva had. They were full out trouble and not even Bryson liked dealing with them. He only called on them for the dirtiest of jobs.

  The Fletcher brothers had a criminal file as thick as a novel. It included arson to rape to theft, but none of the charges against them ever stuck. The mayor saw to that. As
much as Bryson hated the two redneck bullies, he needed them now, and they were the only people outside of his own staff he could trust with something like this. If word got out about there being more of the beasts, the entire town would fall apart in a wild panic.

  Bryson turned to Danny. “What you doing still standing there, boy? I told you to—”

  “Right,” Danny said and took off at a run for Richard’s work shed There was a padlock on its door. He didn’t have the keys and didn’t have any intention of going into Richard’s house. One of the beasts might be hanging around in there. He looked about and spotted a heavy rock on the ground near the shed. Danny picked it up and used it to hammer the padlock. After several blows from the stone, the device broke. He flung rock aside and jerked open the door to the shed. It was dark inside but Danny knew what he was looking for. A large crate sat in the corner of the small building. Danny moved to it and raised its lid. He whistled as he looked over its contents.

  Richard didn’t work much but he had been clearing his property. The crate contained a dozen and a half sticks of dynamite. There was a rope hung on the shed’s wall. Danny took it down and dug out his pocket knife from his jeans, going to work. He sliced up the rope, using its strands to tie sticks of the dynamite to each of the arrows When he was done, he replaced them in his quiver.

  Growing up in the south, Danny had watched enough Dukes of Hazard to copy the Duke boys unique version of serious firepower. With a chuckle, he rummaged around the contents of the shed until he found a cigarette lighter. Being a smoker, Richard had plenty of the things around. He flicked it to make sure it worked. A small but bright orange flame sprung to life and Danny smiled. When the beasts came, he would be ready.

  Their luck held as Danny and Sheriff Bryson waited in Richard’s drive for the others to arrive. There was no sign of the beasts but Danny could feel them out there, somewhere, in the trees, watching

  Two patrol cars and a beat up, green van drove up the drive. They came to a stop, parking near where Danny had left Claire. Paul and two other deputies got out of the police cruisers, each carrying AR-15s. Moments later, the van’s side door opened. Two men climbed out. Danny immediately recognized them as the Fletcher brother. They were bad news, he knew, plain and simple.

  Jerry was the older of the two, a hint of gray showing in his long beard. He wore overalls and carried some kind of illegal, military grade rifle. A long scar stretched from his left eye to the bottom of his jaw. The younger brother, Gerald, was bald. He wore a Hank Williams’ t-shirt over ratty jeans that had seen better days. In his hands he held what looked to be an automatic shotgun. A hatchet dangled from one side of his belt and the other held a holster that contained a huge .44 magnum.

  “Good ta see ya Sheriff,” Jerry spat out a mouthful of tobacco juice as he spoke. “Heard you had some trouble with some Bigfeet that needs to be dealt with.”

  Gerald giggled like a little girl. “Yeah boy! We’re ready to kick some ass.”

  Danny tried to ignore the two brothers and glanced at his watch. It was almost three in the morning. That meant dawn would be coming soon. He didn’t think the beasts would wait much longer before they made their move. The sight of seven armed men, counting himself, might be enough to give them pause, but he sure didn’t think the things were gonna be scared off by them.

  “Sheriff,” Paul walked up to Bryson. “I thought you should know there’s something happening over in Babble Creek. The Sheriff over there just put out a call for help to the Macon department.”

  “Ain’t like that woman to call for help for anything,” Bryson commented. “Whatever it is, it must be bad.”

  “Didn’t catch enough to know for sure,” Paul went on, “But it sounds like she’s got the same kind of problem we do here.”

  “Tell me you’re shitting me?” Bryson stared at Paul.

  “Wish I was Sheriff,” Paul answered.

  “Screw it,” Bryson shrugged. “Let her deal with her own crap. If she’s called in the Macon department, she don’t need us anyhow. Besides we got our hands full here.”

  “How you wanna work this, Bryson?” Jerry asked. “We gonna hole up in the house and wait for those things to come to us or go hunting them?”

  “House,” Bryson nodded towards Richard’s place.

  Something came flying out of the woods. It bounced as it struck the ground, rolling to a stop near the group.

  “Holy!” Gerald squealed. “Is that a freaking head?”

  Danny saw that it was. He watched as Bryson walked up to it, kneeling down to inspect the gruesome site.

  “It’s Ryan,” he said.

  “I sent him on duty over at the morgue like you told me to,” Paul argued. “Can’t be.”

  “It is,” Bryson insisted. “Wanna come take a closer look and see for yourself?”

  Paul shook his head. “I’ll take yourword for it but that means—”

  “No,” Bryson cut in, “the things aren’t loose in town or the radios in our cars would be screaming from all the calls coming in. It stands to reason, if they’re after Danny there, and just him and Richard, they likely just wanted to get that Bigfoot body. They went to the morgue to get it. That’s all. This don’t change anything. We make our stand here and now.”

  “But why throw that deputy’s head at us?” Gerald asked, never too sharp on the uptake.

  “The things are trying to spook us,” Jerry elbowed his brother. “Don’t you get it?”

  A cacophony of bestial cries rang out from the trees all around the house and drive.

  “Get ready,” Bryson warned as the first creatures came bounding from the forest. “Here they come!”

  The drive in front of Richard’s house erupted with gunfire as the members of the small group picked their targets and opened fired. Danny kept in the group’s center, notching an arrow.

  Gerald let out a whoop as he rushed to meet one of the beasts, head on. His automatic shotgun blazed, emptying its magazine into the creature. The rounds reduced the beast’s chest to a bloody mass of pulp. Gerald paused to eject the magazine and slam a fresh one home as Jerry moved up to cover him, hosing two more of the beasts with a stream of automatic fire from his assault rifle.

  Bryson and his deputies held their ground, staying close to each other. Bryson fired his Glock with two hands, aiming his shots carefully. Paul and the others were letting bursts fly at the approaching creatures. The things came from all around them. Danny counted over two dozen of the them. Each stood between eight and ten feet tall, all hair and muscle. Their powerful legs pumped beneath them as they charged forward at a seemingly impossible speed.

  Gerald had just finished reloading his automatic shotgun as one of the beasts reached him and his brother. Jerry put half a clip into the monster as it reached for him but the thing didn’t fall. It roared in pain and anger as it lifted Jerry from the ground and tore both his arms from his body. Gerald spun on the beast as his brother’s blood splattered all over him.

  Jerry fell into the dirt, crying out with shock and pain. Gerald roared in anger, matching the sound coming from the beast. The barrel of his automatic shotgun blazed orange as he unloaded it into the creature. When the weapon clicked empty, there was a gaping hole through the monster’s torso where Gerald had concentrated his fire. It staggered a step and toppled to the dirt with a heavy thud.

  “Take that you mother … !” Gerald was yelling. Danny lit the dynamite attached to the arrow he had notched and picked a target of his own. The arrow flew straight and true, burying itself in the shoulder of a beast just emerging from the trees. The creature had just enough time to look at the arrow protruding from its shoulder with a confused expression before the dynamite detonated. The thing’s body blew apart in a gory rain of limbs and entrails.

  Paul cried out as one of the beasts punched its fist clean through the back of the deputy next to him. The beast yanked its hand free of the man’s collapsing corpse as Paul fired three short bursts into its stomach and chest. B
lood poured from the bullet wounds that dug into its body, but the beast seemed unaffected. It lunged at Paul as his AR-15 clicked empty.

  Quick on his feet, the deputy swung the rifle over and around, swinging it like a club. The butt of the rifle hammered into the beast’s face and broke apart from the force of the blow. The creature ripped what was left of the weapon away from Paul with one hand while its other closed around his throat, crushing it. The beast pulled Paul closer inwards, sinking its teeth into the deputy’s skull with a sickening crunching noise. Paul’s body twitched and jerked in the beast’s grasp as it reared back its head, tearing part of Paul’s skull away in its teeth.

  The last of the deputies threw his gun aside and tried to make a run for it. One of the beasts easily overtook him, knocking the deputy from his feet.

  “No! Please!” the man yelled as the creature stomped towards him and raised one of its huge feet over the deputy’s head. Its foot came down on the man’s forehead like a sledgehammer. His skull popped under the beast’s weight like an overripe melon drenching the dirt and gravel of the drive with blood and brain matter.

  Danny let another arrow fly. It thunked into the sternum of another beast that was charging towards him. The monster kept coming right up until the second the arrow exploded and sent it to Hell. The shockwave from the dynamite explosion blew Danny and Bryson from their feet.

  From where he lay, Danny saw Gerald. The short, burly redneck must have lost his shotgun because he clung to the back of one of the beasts, cackling like a madman. His hatchet rose and fell onto the thing’s head and shoulder over and over again as sprays of blood flew. His downward thrusts hacked away chunks of the beast’s flesh. The enraged monster reached over its shoulder with one hand, getting a grip on Gerald. It slung him over itself into the ground in front of it and proceeded to leap onto his body, jumping up and down until all that was left of Gerald was a red smear and shards of broken bone.