by Graeme Clark
The answer moaned a little more and opened her eyes. She didn't deserve to die. Peter had gotten her involved when he shouldn't have. This was his mess, and at the very least he had to get her safe. The creature's left foot moved to balance itself and it stepped into the puddle of melted snow; it was only an inch deep but it pulled its foot back and yelped.
Water dissolves salt. Its body is reacting to the water. It needs salt to stay dehydrated? The opposite of us? It needs salt to stay dehydrated so it can't handle a lot of water. It can handle snow, and rain as long as it has a supply of salt. One hand free. It can handle deep snow as it knows where there is lots of salt in the winter months to keep it dehydrated. The cable slipped from his hands and Peter was free. The creature must have sensed something was wrong. It moved its claw into Mary's throat, Peter pounced. His legs were still tied to the chair but the creature was within grabbing distance. He lurched at it and the claw didn't penetrate very deep before the creature fell backward, it stumbled out of the doorway. Peter grabbed the broken shovel, scooped up a little water from the puddle and threw it at the creature. It screeched as the effect of the water was instant. The cracked skin immediately plumped up and filled with water; soaking it up like a repulsive sponge. It clawed at its cheek and scurried backward. Peter pulled at the cable around his ankles and it fell away easily. He grabbed Mary and ran from the building, heading to the JCB. He wasn't religious but he prayed the keys were still in it.
The Final Fight
As they ran they could just hear the screaming of the creature, it was in pain, it was hurting.
'Are you OK?' Peter asked as they hurried around the machine trying to find an open door.
Mary just nodded, her hand placed to her bleeding neck.
Peter found a door that was open, he helped Mary up into the machine first. She struggled to step up but with a push from Peter she was in.
'Are the keys in the ignition?' Peter asked. Mary looked all around the steering column before Peter said, 'No, over there.' He pointed to a console to the right of the driver's seat that housed all the controls. She looked over to her right.
'Yes, the keys are here.'
Peter stepped up on to the first step and was hit from the side. His lacerated stomach screamed at him. The creature rolled with him, its face was blistered and black pus oozed from lesions that had been created with the water. It pushed Peter to the ground and the pus dripped onto Peter's face causing his stomach to lurch as it touched his lips. Its jaws were readied for a bite, they snapped again with a clink of teeth.
Peter used every ounce of strength left to push the creature, it wasn't heavy and should have moved quite easily but its strength was immense and Peter struggled to push its body off him. The cold ground chilled his back but his shoulder blades burned where they were shoved into the road surface. Peter looked beyond the creature, to his right ... the fence. He saw the water hose against the fence; it lay like an uncoiled snake on the ground. Water dripped from the end of the hose. Of course. The man who washed the machine down had kept the water trickling to stop it freezing. An old road-man's trick Harry Black had once told him. Well, Peter was an old road-man and he had one more trick left.
Pushing and twisting, Peter managed to get the creature onto its side. He needed to keep it still for a few moments so he could reach the tap. Only one thing for it. Peter readied his jaws, he was baring his teeth, and he lurched forward and bit the creature's scaly shoulder. It howled and let him go, clutching at its neck. The taste of the creature was just pure salt, his mouth dried instantly but Peter got to his feet and ran. He knew the beast wouldn't be too far behind so he hurried to the tap and turned it on full. The hose whipped this way and that as it sprayed water everywhere. The creature stopped just short - but not short enough. The water sprayed it in a gentle shower.
'Time for a wash fuckwit,' Peter shouted. He dove forward grabbing at the end of the hose, he pushed it through the chain-link fence and back to him through another link. Peter jammed it in place and positioned it so the water arched up and landed directly onto the creature's head. It splashed all around the creature and it fell to its knees tearing at its skin with its claws. The black ooze poured down it in torrents, thick and gluey. It looked to Peter as if it was melting.
'Time for the big shovel.' Peter moved into the machine, jumping the first step. 'Move over.'
Mary moved off the only seat to the rear of the cabin where she could sit on a little storage box. Peter started up the engine and it roared into life; fumes billowed from the large exhaust on the bonnet. This machine had a front loading bucket that opened like jaws, used normally to lift spoil. Peter used the levers to the side to open these jaws up now as wide as they would go. He lifted the bucket high into the air and it now looked like some mythical dragon about to fight it out with its slayer. This dragon though, wasn't going to be slain. He threw the gear lever into second and crept forward until the bucket was over the head of the creature. He tipped it forward so the open jaws were directly over it and brought the bucket lower and lower. The creature was trapped in the water spray as if paralysed. The bucket was lowered and Peter lost sight of the creature so had to guess when he was low enough.
The screeching was louder and more painful than ever; death for the creature wouldn't be far away even without the loading shovel. Peter had no trouble speeding up the process. With one push on the lever the jaws closed. The creature let out one huge cry and then was silent. Peter lifted the shovel up high again so he could see the extent of the damage. He had cut the creature in two at about chest high. The bottom slumped into the pool of water and disintegrated to a black ooze, like tar. The upper half was still in the bucket. Peter pushed the lever forward and tipped the upper half of the creature out into the water and it also disintegrated into the road surface.
After a few moments there was no trace of it left.
'Is it over now?' Mary asked from behind him.
Peter opened the door and stepped down from the machine, he helped Mary do the same. 'Yes, it's over, we can go home now.'
'Can we take the machine? My hip is killing me.'
Peter smiled, a tired, lazy smile, he placed one arm around his stomach to ease the pain, the other around Mary. He hugged her and said, 'No Mary, the guys need it tonight, think it's going to be another cold one.'
The snowflakes were getting larger and larger as the sun descended. Darkness was coming. The snow always got worse at night when the temperature dropped. The cold began to bite into his old bones and he needed to get home. It might be too late for turkey and family. But there were always presents.
Always Mary.
Always.
Graeme Clark
Writer of psychological horror and thriller.
Born in Edinburgh in 1970, he currently lives in Gorebridge, a small village south of Edinburgh with his girlfriend and daughter. When he’s not writing he’s reading or adding to his extensive Blu-Ray collection. He used to enjoy local UFO conventions but gave that up a while ago although his fascination on the psychology of the phenomena still resonates deeply.
In 2013 he teamed up with A Fiction Writers Group on Facebook to publish two anthologies: Writers Anarchy I and Writers Anarchy II-The End of the World as we Wrote It, both available on Amazon with a short story featured in both. Adding to that recently with two flash fiction pieces in 'Flash It', also available from Amazon, his stories are at last finding a home.
He began his first novel in January 2013 which is nearing the end of its first draft as 2014 kicks off.
Contact him at [email protected] or find him on Facebook and Twitter, he will answer any questions with a smile.
February 2014.
And Finally...
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If they also enjoy the story then you will not only had a positive impact on me as a writer but also on the reader and they will be pleased and grateful to you. If you feel strong enough to share your views with a review on Amazon then I will be forever grateful and I will do my best to honour any positive reviews by writing and publishing quicker.
Best wishes
Graeme Clark
