by Alan Spencer
As pretty as the long path of prism rocks were, she realized she was looking down upon them. She wasn't moving on her own. She was over somebody's shoulder.
She called out to whoever was carrying her. A soft moan crept from her lips. The person either ignored her or didn't hear her, because they didn't react.
They're saving me.
We were being attacked, I was hurt, and this man is saving me.
She was weak. Her eyes wouldn't stay open very much longer. Closing her eyes would be the easiest way to deal with the pain in her skull.
The rocks. The pretty rocks. She was saved. These were the things that mattered.
Candy slipped back into unconsciousness, but only right before seeing Zoe's face inches from her own, and how it was caked in so much blood.
The blood, coupled with the screams echoing from every pocket of the woods, told her she was anything but saved.
Shitty Way to Die
Logan Williams was the nineteen-year-old fresh-faced actor dressed in pink shorts with white polka dots. He was also the guy running for his life. Everybody else in the crew had fled the scene and went their separate ways. He ended up alone in the shuffle. He had torn up his aqua shoes against rocks the color of blue cotton candy. Across his back, something that looked like an owl with leathery wings and jowls like a foaming rabid dog had raked its talons deep into his skin. He kept moving despite the pain of the attack.
In this part of the forest, the trees were covered in a thick green moss. The moss was sharp as high grit sandpaper. He was bleeding from his palms when he made the mistake of bracing himself against one of the damn things.
One thing was clear.
Nature was quite the bitch on this island.
A green stalk reached out to grab him. The stalk was as thick as a human arm and triple as strong. Logan leapt forward to dodge the thing. The stalk opened like a sideways pea pod to reveal lance-sharp teeth. Logan gasped in horror when he got a closer look at the mossy tree the stalk was connected to. Along the surface, clear tubes were carrying chewed up arms, hands, skin, and guts. He saw Deborah Kingford's head in one of those tubes. The actresses' face was shaped in a forever scream.
Logan discovered an opening in the forest up ahead. He stepped across a path of smooth multi-colored rocks and was sprinting on flat open terrain.
Grass can't kill you, right?
He spun in place hearing loud blasts of agony and tortured screams. His friends and co-workers were dying out there.
He couldn't keep his eyes on one thing. The grass. The horizon of more forest surrounding him. The sun safe up in the sky. There were no buildings or signs of civilization. This was a wild island untouched by humans. There were no more rabid fucked up owls or hungry man-eating plants ready to attack him, and thank God. The way appeared to be clear.
Logan stopped one moment too late. He lost his footing. Underneath him, the ground was soft like mud. He struck the ground on his side. What he landed on squished. When he tried to get up, he used his hands to push off of the ground, and his hand sank deep and deeper into the muck that stank of many horrible things.
Wads of hair were twisted up in the dark gray mess. Bones of animals unidentified by science. White curvatures or ribs and backbones that could've been used to build ornamental harps. Eyes the size of softballs that were partially digested. Most of it was gray clay and soupy brown mud. The smell of it cut through his sinuses and induced vomiting.
This isn't mud.
This is shit!
I've fallen in T-Rex shit.
The realization seemed to make the pile deeper. He imagined a ten-ton elephant taking a dump. The pile was four feet high. He was sinking deeper and drowning. A dollop struck his mouth. He spat, and spat, and spat and vomited, and vomited, and vomited.
What he didn't expect hit him all at once and sucked every ounce of blood from his body in seconds. White maggots as long as garden snakes slid under his skin with the ease of hypodermic needles. Hundreds of intestinal parasites feasted on Logan's body until he was unrecognizable matter mixed in the giant T-Rex shit patty.
Web Ahead
"You're not taking him!"
Becky McAllister had hold of her new boyfriend, Fred whatever-his-last-name was-she-couldn't-remember, by both hands. T-Rex had Fred's well muscled body clutched in his mouth.
"Let him go!"
She pulled back as hard as she could and fell backwards with Fred's ripped off arms in her hands. Becky cried out as she saw armless Fred chomped up into T-Rex's mouth. The dinosaur seemed to smile at her horror. Those glowing yellow eyes were pure evil. She threw away Fred's arms and got herself together.
Becky had run track in high school. Her room's shelf was heaping with trophies. She used that athleticism and fled from the creature.
STOMP.
STOMP.
STOMP.
The ground quaked with T-Rex's pursuit. She leapt, jumped, and sped up her pace as she ran between the dense trees. That gave her the edge. T-Rex had to pummel and smash through them. She heard the beast head butt and smash its body through the trunks of trees. They were mere roadblocks to the sweet meat.
"Ah-gawd!"
Becky spat it from her lips and tried to peel the sticky spider web from her face. The web was so sticky, she stopped running so she could open her eyes again. The webbing was like glue. The mess was stuck to her fingers, but at least she could see again.
She would soon curse the gift of sight.
Someone kicked the feet from under her. She couldn't break her fall. She landed with a great whoosh of air escaping her lips. Her forehead was bleeding. The ground made rattling sounds. She thought it was porcelain, but it was actually broken up bones. They were scattered and piled inches high.
Becky was lifted up off the ground by her ankles. Her legs were pressed together. A wet thick rope was wrapped around both feet. That was what had knocked her on her ass. She was upside down and being carried upwards inch by inch.
She couldn't look up.
She could only look around.
Giant spiders the size of Mac trucks were climbing down the thicker trees. Their skittering was grating to her ears. These spiders were bone plated in the thorax. The rest of their body was covered in raw black glistening meat. She wasn't sure how they could see because they didn't appear to have eyes.
That question was answered when cords of pinkish leather fell from their bodies all around their circumference. At the tips of the leather cords, wads of meat opened up like eyelids. Green eyes with red speckles watched her. The fifty some odd morbid tarantula hybrids were surrounding her. Closing in for the kill.
The closest one had a mouth slit on its belly. Hundreds of teeth click-clacked together in anticipation of a juicy meal.
"Raaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaatch!"
T-Rex raised its giant foot and squashed the spider. Hot guts squirted from broken sections of its flesh.
The spiders combined forces and went on the offensive.
Becky was still being woven upwards.
She could only thrash and cry out.
Webs shot from every direction and attached themselves to the T-Rex. The dinosaur would chew through them or use that web as a lasso. Its small arms would swing the attached spider into a tree. The strength! The spiders slammed into the trees so hard they exploded into juicy bits. Another spider leapt onto T-Rex's back. T-Rex jumped up and landed back-first onto the ground. The wrestling move did the trick. Squash! The spider spurted bug guts from hundreds of broken orifices. The dinosaur quickly got up and chomped one of the spiders into nasty pulp.
The dinosaur was winning its battle.
Becky was not.
Winding upwards inch by inch, the smart spider perched up high up in the tree was reeling back in its web to bring her home. She could see the slit open in its belly, and those teeth, Jesus, those teeth...
Tiger Toad
What just bit me?
Seriously. I don't feel so good all of the sudden.
>
There go my dreams of being a movie star. They would've loved me. All big time stars go through this. The humble beginnings. The slow climb up the ladder. Then finally the breakout film. It all would've started with Dino Buffet 3. That's what that Rodman douche told me anyways.
Oh man, I'm not feeling good at all.
John Anthony slid down the tree he was leaning on for support. The incredible dinosaur stalking them in the woods didn't matter anymore. The bite on his arm overarched everything else. He was tingling all over, and now he was numb. That numbness intensified into a paralysis. He was almost...high.
He imagined smoking the biggest bowl. This wasn't creeper weed, but good weed. The kind you didn't eat your weight in cheese doodles over. The weed the government had genetically enhanced for a superior high.
He was laughing and making a yucking noise.
It was really amusing if you looked at it the right way, John thought. What a funny looking thing to get bitten by. There it was crouched on a stone that served as an island in a large puddle of water. Calling it a toad wouldn't be doing it justice. The toad was orange with tiger stripes. Its head was sinking into its hulking fat body. The eyes were solid black. The thing had to be almost a hundred pounds. It was simply huge. Bigger than a dog.
How did it bite me?
Toads don't have teeth.
John turned his eyes down to his forearm. There was a wet sticky spot with a fat bead of blood.
Did the thing jab me with its tongue?
You've been poisoned by the tiger toad.
Tiger toad.
That would've been a cool name for a band.
Tiger toad.
The toad made a sharp chortling noise. The toad was like a balloon, somehow inflating itself from within, until it was three times its size. He thought the damn thing was going to pop. The toad was as big as a miniature pony now.
Before John could perceive anything else, the toad flicked its thick pink projectile tongue. The sticky end dug in like a spear deep into his bicep. The tongue retracted, and his arm was ripped right out of socket.
John watched in awe and confusion as he was leaking great amounts of blood.
Why was he laughing?
God, I'm so high!
I can't feel a thing.
This is great.
The toad flicked the tongue again and again and stole both of his feet. Flick. Flick. Flick. Now his other arm. The tongue shot into his belly and caught a hold of his guts. The intestines unraveled out the entry hole like a long pink piece of cooked spaghetti. It all went down the tiger toad's throat with a wild slurp.
I still can't feel anything.
Man, this toad injected me with some good stuff.
Wow, this is almost fun.
I'm sooooooo fucking high.
Mr. Toad, what piece you going to take next? My bet, you'll eat my ass cheeks. Gotta be the cheeks next.
He bet wrong.
The pink tongue fired out of the toad's mouth in three-dimensional fashion. The tongue poked out John's eye, plunging in deeply. The pink dagger dug into his brain and then quickly reared itself back. John's neck made a grump sound when his head was disconnected from the rest of his body. The tiger toad swallowed it whole. Minutes later, there wasn't a piece of John left to eat.
The tiger toad grew even bigger.
Nowhere Safe
"Ahh!"
The green, black, and blue beak pierced Jenny's left breast. Peck-peck-peck-peck-peck. The soft skin parted up against the razor-tipped weapon. Each connection was like a nail being driven into her body. Those beady buzzard eyes gobbled up a chunk of dangling breast meat and was about to delve its bloody beak right back into the wound.
Squawk squawk squawk!
Jenny Cole, Bikini Beachgoer #4, punched Toucan Sam from hell in the side, and then ripped out a handful of its rainbow feathers. The bird reared back its head and raged. The thing went for her eyes this time. Before it could take that killing lunge, another huge form swallowed the bird up in its mouth with strike speed. Every bone was crushed in the bird's body. The jaws compacted it into a bloody heap. The double-headed anaconda snake swallowed the bird whole. The giant snake's body was as red as the blood spilling from the bird.
"Ahh!"
Jenny back-pedaled on all fours from the threat. She pictured herself being crushed, devoured, and digested. She forced herself up onto her feet and fled in the opposite direction.
She made it four steps before crashing smack-faced into the leathery spider's leg.
"Ahh!"
Jenny dove away to escape being underneath the gargantuan spider and that hideous mouth. She landed hard on a flat patch of grass and froze.
Oh my God!
At the edge of the forest, the spider was pivoting its body to attack her. She imagined being real dead real fast. Then she heard it approach.
T-Rex leaped into the air and squashed the spider with both of its feet. The spider's guts spat out both of its sides with a broken fire hydrant's force. The spider collapsed deflated and dead.
"Ahh!"
T-Rex bounded after her. Its reptilian body was a sleek machine of speed. Pure hunter, pure hunger, pure energy, the dinosaur roared, announcing its dominance. Steps away from turning a vibrant, young woman with the rest of her life ahead of her into something to be excreted and returned to the earth, Jenny had nowhere to flee.
She closed her eyes, prayed for a quick merciful death, and was completely showered by mutant grasshoppers with thick shell bodies and sharp toothpick teeth. Before T-Rex could claim its kill, the jacked up grasshoppers had de-fleshed Jenny and left a pile of picked over bones.
"Raaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"
T-Rex stomped the colony of grasshoppers into the ground leaving a concave hole filled with tobacco juice blood.
The prehistoric beast, super pissed, returned to the hunt.
Quicksand Trap
Gary O'Rear, Popular Kid #1, was moving his muscle bound body much faster than his co-stars. He had left them in his dust. Not that he felt bad about it. He wasn't being paid worth a damn to be in this movie. He didn't make any friends, really, while working either. And Bruce Ryder was a grease ball loser.
He was alive.
End of story.
Fuck the rest of them.
Besides, Gary was a real actor who had done commercial TV work and had jobs in a few supporting roles in real Hollywood movies. His pedigree didn't change things. The rent was due, and he needed that paycheck, and he was earning it, and now he was fighting for things more important than resurrecting his bank account from the dead.
He was somewhere in a fantastic forest. He imagined the rain forest was like something he saw as a kid in the movie Ferngully. Odd monkeys that were blue skinned and covered in green hair pointed at him and seemed to laugh at his situation. Trees with visible writhing veins and digestive cavities made his jaw drop again and again. Everything appeared to be a chunk of the prehistoric past as if the island had survived centuries of change and somehow remained the same.
Skip the nature tour.
How the fuck do I get out of here?
You can't. You saw the boat get smashed by that fucking dinosaur.
I'll build a raft. I don't care. I'm not dying here.
He was as stealthy as a running back racing for a touchdown until the ground unexpectedly dipped. He turned his ankle and was pitched forward. When he hit the ground, he splashed into a puddle. The puddle wasn't water. It was grainy and thick like oatmeal. The stuff was thick and heavy and sucked him right down.
Quicksand.
Gary cried out for help. The muck filled his mouth and left his pleas unheard. He spat it out in time to be dunked in the mess. He was lowering down deeper. Gary did his best to try and reach out and pull himself back to the top for that precious breath of air. The sand, the clay, the living dirt, whatever it was, weakened him against its power.
He wasn't going to survive this. He was close to blacking out when he fell an
d landed hard. Gary coughed for breath. Once he was breathing again, he took in his surroundings.
He was in what appeared to be a cave. He sweated in the humid environment. The ground and walls were slimy and smelled like that nasty smell of wet pavement and earthworms when they were forced up from their dirt hideaways after a good rain. Everything was a guess because he was walking in pure darkness without a hint of light.
Gelatinous goop was sloughing off the ceiling and landing in dollops against his head. The humidity level was increasing. Gary did the only thing he could and kept walking. The ground at his feet was hard to stand on. He imagined trying to keep himself upright while stepping on a waterbed. When he did slip and fall, it didn't injure him. He was grateful for that much.
The speck of light up ahead gave him the hope of escaping this quicksand purgatory cave place. He didn't know what to call it. He'd give his left nut for a bar of soap and the right one for a shower. The light had him moving much faster. He was almost near the opening of this underground channel. The light was getting bigger and brighter.
Outside now, he could see details of the cave he had left behind. It wasn't a cave. His best guess, it was a port to a nest. The walls were a whitish blue clam color. Strange how the whitish blue suddenly stopped and the dirt began. This channel was made by a creature of some kind. Everything was covered in a thick sheen of a jelly-like substance. Gary, too, was covered from head to toe. If someone were to give him a hug, they'd slide right off of him.
I'm alive.
I survived quicksand.
If I get back to civilization, I'll have some kick ass stories to tell.
A rush of air coughed out of the end of the fleshy tube. The air increased, acting like a hard shove, and it pushed him to the ground.
The thing inside the channel was coming out. Gary caught some details of the worm face. The slit for a mouth. The sharp bone horn carved into a forward "V". The twenty-four beady black eyes locking onto him. The thing had to weigh many tons. The worm was incredibly long and thick in the body when it sprang from the hole. The worm didn't break pace to swallow him whole, then tunnel right back into the ground and out-of-sight.
