by Alan Spencer
Bruce looked on at the four other people and knew they had a shot to survive. It wouldn't be easy, but it was a shot, and they had to take it.
"Here's the plan. We find whatever weapons we can in the house, stick together, locate that path, and take our chances. It's all we got. We need to do this before sundown. Once it gets dark, forget it."
The group didn't waste time.
They scoured the house for weapons.
Not Dead Yet
The bullets had gone through him cleanly.
No major organs were hit.
Taxidermy Tim suffered a good fall, but if he could stop the bleeding from his shoulder and side, he would survive. He hadn't broken any bones. He was damn lucky.
What he couldn't survive was what had dropped down from the window moments ago. They had thrown his Mother out of the house. She landed and broke into leathery pieces in a flurry of dust and mites.
They had desecrated his Mother's body. There was no way to repair the damage done. His first reaction was anger.
So why wasn't he crying yet? He should've been thrown into the deepest pits of despair. She was the last member of his family. She supported him and encouraged him throughout everything.
The bitch also told him what to do. Mother was a bossy, bossy bitch. He was a man, not a child. He was sick of being treated like he couldn't handle his emotions. He could make decisions without her chiming in with her two cents. The bitch. Oh, the dead bitch.
Mother wouldn't let him touch the women. Tim worked extra hard to form bodies made up of only the honest-to-God good parts. She always said he had failed after each of his attempts. That there was too much bad mixed in with the good. He wasn't anywhere near as good at the process as his father was.
Mother lied. He knew the process fine. He was a craftsman. He was damn good at his work. The truth was she didn't want him to fall in love and leave her alone on this island. Loneliness made her lie. Mother was selfish.
He could carve up and mold the women any way he damn well pleased from now on. This time, he would skip the "good" parts. He would target the nastiest parts. The dripping with evil parts. He never told Mother he enjoyed the nasty bits the best. They brought him the most pleasure.
He enjoyed having sex with one of the sculptures he created about six months ago. If only Mother hadn't interrupted him. He was a virgin, and he was so close to an orgasm, but Mother, Goddamn Mother! She had to interrupt him. Talk about breaking his dick's back! His hard on shrank like a turtle head escaping back into its shell.
No more, Mother.
Let some wild creature chew your remains, and be gone with you!
Freedom meant one thing. He needed female parts for his slut sculpture. All he had to do was somehow get back inside the house, reclaim his cutting tools, and get to work.
Taxidermy Tim hid nearby.
His eyes didn't leave the house.
Once he had his chance, he would put together his perfect slut.
Stocking Up
Bruce had become a director again in his own way. He was telling people how to survive. Whether he was qualified to do so or not, it didn't matter. Someone had to take charge.
The others were looking for weapons. He located two gas cans in the basement. One was full of gas, and the other was half full. He prayed the psycho's boat could get them home.
He was about to search upstairs when Zoe stopped him. She had taken the killer's hammer and hatchet. Her face was apprehensive when she approached him.
"Bruce, I just wanted to say I'm sorry I punched you earlier."
He had pretty much forgotten about the incident; especially up against everything else that had transpired. "Thank you for saying that. I probably deserve it. I'm in that kind of business. I can't pretend I'm a saint."
"It's no excuse. I had the wrong idea about what happened with my sister on your movie. Candy explained everything. My sister lied to me. You didn't do anything wrong. You're just doing a job."
"Apology accepted. I want all of us to get off this island and live long happy lives. Apologize by surviving. Apologize by going on and doing great things."
They shook hands.
"Deal."
From downstairs, Blast cheered from the first floor, "Whoa yeah!"
Bruce and Zoe hurried to meet up with the exuberant special effects man. Blast was inside a room on the first floor. Candy and Kate were also with him. The room was stocked from top to bottom with weapons. A pegboard was nailed up against the wall. M-16s, Mossberg pump action shotguns, .357 magnums, and elephant guns were hung from hooks. Even a box of hand grenades was stowed in one corner.
Everybody was arming themselves. Nobody cared where Taxidermy Tim got the weapons from. All that mattered was that the weapons were here.
Blast was stoked. "Now you're fucking talking. This gives us a fighting chance."
Kate was looking more and more determined the longer she was with the group. "I only want on that boat. I hate this island. It's going to take a lot of prescription drugs to erase the memory of this place."
"We all hate this island," Candy said. "This island can go to hell."
Kate eyed the group. "I've been meaning to ask you guys this. If Taxidermy Tim didn't bring you here, then why did you come here?"
The others looked at Bruce. Bruce smiled big. He shrugged. "Well. Okay. I'm a director. We were shooting a movie about a killer dinosaur. I shit you not."
"You what?" Kate's face went from tough bitch to amused. "No way. You're joking."
"We were supposed to be on a different island, but our captain took us to the wrong place. I swear it's the truth. Blast here is my special effects guy. Candy and Zoe are my lovely actresses. Everybody else on the crew, well..."
The conversation changed gears. Nobody was smiling anymore. Everybody wanted to leave in a hurry.
"I'm ready to go when you are," Kate said. "We'll find that path and go from there."
Bruce clutched both gas cans. "I'll carry these to fuel the boat."
Zoe gave up the hatchet and hammer for a 12 gauge. Candy, in all her bikini clad glory, was carrying an M-16.
Blast made his final choices. Two .357 magnums. "I'll carry my backpack. We'll put more ammunition in it. I threw in some jars and rags just in case we need to whip up some Molotov cocktails. God knows what we'll encounter out there."
"What happened to you earlier?" Bruce asked. "I lost you. I thought you were dead."
Blast sighed. "I'll tell you the truth, I got lost in the dust. That stampede blinded me every which way. I had to backtrack. That's when I saw the house again, and I ran in and blasted that creep to kingdom come."
"I owe you one," Kate said. "I owe all of you my life."
"Let's not get overboard," Bruce said. "We're in this together. You get us to that boat, all will be good. You can do me one favor, Kate."
"Anything."
"Load yourself with weapons up to the gills, and let's get out of here."
Kate grabbed a Beretta, a Rangefinder rifle with scope, and strapped two belts of grenades across her chest. "Okay. This bitch is ready to go."
Bruce gave her a thumb's up. "Sure looks like it."
Candy noticed the pad of paper on top of a pile of wooden crates. "What's this about?"
Bruce thumbed through the pages. "Huh. Looks like a bunch of lists. Food and weapons mostly." He stopped on the tenth page he flipped through and paused. "Interesting. Looks like Taxidermy freak's father built up this small arsenal in case something from back home discovered them. The guy was planning on putting up a good fight if the police came knocking on their door."
Blast studied the steno pad. "I see the symbol for Blunt Taxidermy Services on the top corner. I can't imagine advertising taxidermy services on a pad of paper. It's not like they were a hotel or a real estate agent. And don't they advertise on sponges anymore?"
Zoe was chilled by a thought. "Could you imagine how long Tim would've gotten away with his crimes if we hadn't come along and stopped
him? I'm so sorry, Kate. It's all so horrible."
Kate sneered. It was hard for anybody in the room to know what she was mentally processing. "He's dead. There's nothing anyone else can do now. How that family survived on this island for so long and why they did the things they did are all irrelevant. Sorry doesn't cut it. The victims will always be victims. That will never change. Revenge doesn't feel sweet, but escaping this damn island and doing something with my life, that makes me feel better. So let's move on. Please."
"Absolutely. I agree." Bruce studied everybody in the room. These people were ready for a new set of surroundings, and pronto. "Everybody good to go?"
Zoe gave Bruce a nod and clutched her shotgun. "I suddenly feel like I'm in one of your shitty movies."
"Very funny." Bruce was serious now. "I just pray for a happy ending."
Right after he said that, T-Rex smashed his head through the living room wall.
Part Three
Home Invasion
Bruce dared to glance from the edge of the hallway out into the living room. All he could see was the giant green head and those enormous teeth bite up a couch, bash a coffee table into smithereens with its forehead, and break the east wall into four pieces with a single blow with the side of its cranium. The nose kept sniffing for humans. Its hot nasty breath filled the house. He imagined being in a furnace fueled by halitosis wood.
Failing to locate meat, T-Rex shook its head back and forth in anger. The solid skull reduced wood to shattered debris. The living room was gone in seconds. The dinosaur was so exuberant in its biting, smashing, and bashing it didn't realize the upstairs was starting to come undone.
"Run out the back!" Blast shouted. "The house is coming down! Hurry!"
The two-story house collapsed from within. T-Rex was inside continuing to batter his way through the wreckage. With each stomp, shake of the head, and roar, its impatience only escalated. There was no calming the beast until blood was shed.
The group raced out to the backyard. They searched for any signs of the pathway Kate had mentioned earlier. It didn't take long to locate that path. The ground was well trod in a single line twenty yards leading out of the backyard. They followed the worn down grass to the edge of a thick forested area. There was indeed a fork.
Left or right? Which way would they go, Bruce wondered. One led to the boat, and the other...death.
Candy cried out, "What do we do?"
Zoe's eyes were wild. "Which way, Bruce?"
Bruce didn't want the pressure to decide. The situation didn't allow for hesitation. There was no way to make an educated guess. He simply had to choose.
"Left! Go left!"
Everybody followed Bruce. The forest was so thick he couldn't see more than a few yards. They stuck to the path. Blue and green monkeys were swinging from tree to tree around them. Others were jumping up and down and making shrieking noises of excitement.
"Shut up, monkeys!" Blast growled. "Those things are going to give us away. I always hated monkeys. I never found them funny in any context."
"We can't shut them up," Zoey said. "There's too many."
Trees were shoved aside with the ease of silk curtains. T-Rex was bounding forward at ramming speed. The dinosaur was knocking the monkeys out of the trees on his way. The monkeys were throwing coconuts at the beast. Each blow to the head enraged the dinosaur.
T-Rex had his revenge.
Monkeys were flattened by the monster's stomp and squish efforts. Growing crazier with bloodlust, the mouth chomped down on the top of a giant tree. Breaking up branches with its powerful jaws, some of the monkeys in those branches couldn't escape. Their bodies were squished and spurting blue blood. T-Rex's mouth was painted a neon blue for a moment before it swallowed their pieces whole.
The few monkeys that remained were smart enough to retreat.
The humans became the main target again.
Blast was quick to take action.
"Bruce, open one of those gas cans. Candy, dig into the backpack and hand me a rag. Zoe, fill one of the jars with gas. Kate, get my lighter from the side pocket. Ready yourself to light the Molotov cocktail. You're going to throw it at that big green dick bag."
Bruce and the group followed Blast's instructions. The special effects man knew how to create chaos on no budget or time, and this situation wasn't any different.
T-Rex was spitting out chunks of wood and random stones he'd picked up during his frantic monkey killing spree. Blue blood dribbled down its chin. Those demonic yellow eyes seemed to burn brighter with each new victim it devoured.
The group watched as it lowered its head, sucked in a breath, and came charging at them. Bruce was pouring the gas into the jar. Zoe was clutching it with shaky hands. Candy was tearing a rag into a smaller sliver. Candy jammed three quarters of the torn strip into the jar. Zoe closed the lid. Kate flicked Blast's lighter, lit the rag, and taking aim, hurled it at the incoming beast.
The group retreated up the path. The jar shattered. Bruce saw the glass break right between its eyes. Flames spread across its forehead. The smell of cooking flesh hit the air instantly. He couldn't see T-Rex's features—only a great ball of flames.
The dinosaur screeched in pain. It staggered in the other direction, flailing its head to fan the flames.
The beast was gone.
That was one problem solved.
Many more would soon show themselves up ahead.
T-Rex's attack had awakened the other predators in the woods, and they were about to pounce.
Open Season
Blast had both .357 magnums raised up at the forest. "Shoot everything in your way!"
From a cave entrance, a horde of green ticks the size of crabs skittered forth. They blanketed the ground in skirting green movements.
Kate removed two grenades from the belt slung across her front and hurled them towards the ticks. "Eat it, you ugly fucks!"
BOOM!
BOOM!
Half of the tick front was squashed by hot shrapnel. The ticks spilled gray guts in spurting and splashing fashion.
Candy and Zoe worked together on pouring another Molotov cocktail. They lit it up, pitched it forward, and caught the rest of the ticks on fire. They bubbled up and exploded against the raging heat.
A gathering of mega-sized wart hogs with tusks large enough to gore a person through three times over were fast approaching. Hooves kicked up curtains of dirt. Foam bubbled at the sides of their grunting and ravenous mouths. The dozens of eyes spread about their dark leathery bodies were bent in primal rage.
"What are you looking at, twenty eyes?"
Blast sent home a strong message to fuck off. The .357s did the talking. Tusks were shattered by bullets. Wart hog noses evaporated in giant clouds of red mist. Candy backed up the special effects man with a ream of M-16 fire. Hot pumping, shredding, penetrating bullets chopped them up into hunks of steaming would-be bacon.
"Keep going! Keep going! Keep going! Run!" Bruce encouraged them to cover new ground. They would tread so many yards only to be cornered by new threats. The forest refused to relent.
A daddy longlegs spider towered over the forest. The thin legs were so tall it could've matched the height of any big city skyscraper. The body was simply two circles of black meat covered in course hair. The eyes were a cluster of fifty oily black marbles that created one giant hideous eyeball. The mouth was a cartoonish slit.
The beast was about to lunge down upon them when T-Rex, burnt faced, leapt up and chomped its head off. The spider's face stump was leaking hundreds of gallons of black syrup and sludge down onto the woods. It pelted the trees. The group dodged the raining gore in horror. The reek tested their grit.
There was no time to vomit.
Only run.
The headless daddy longlegs tipped over on its side and collapsed. The concussion caused the group to all loose their footing and fall.
Stork looking birds with jagged beaks, raw meat jowls, and feathers that looked to be dipped in tobacco
juice, were stirred from the trees.
Kate shouted, "Shoot 'em! Quick!"
Zoe's 12 gauge tore many of the hybrid storks into pieces. One flew down and pecked Bruce between the shoulder blades. Blast shoved his .357 into the bird's face and blasted its beak out its brains.
"You okay, mister director?"
"Yeah. Hurts like hell." Bruce dug into the backpack. He had a desert eagle pistol and started to play a very gory game of clay storks. "Now it's payback time!"
Zoe removed a grenade from Kate's belt and tossed it at another brave boar wanting a sample of raw human flesh. The grenade landed right beneath its belly and launched the boar up twenty feet into the air only to drop it back down as unrecognizable gore.
The grenade's blast had broken a pile of rotting logs and disturbed a snake's nest. These snakes were the size of boa constrictors. They were purple and black striped. Their faces split in two halves, revealing a wide maw of long teeth dripping with milky white poisons.
Candy pumped the mother snake with enough bullets to keep it down. The babies, roughly a foot long each, were slithering and threatening. They crawled up Zoe's legs, worked their way up her torso and arms, and pried their way into her mouth. She gagged and choked, trying to rip them from her mouth. Her efforts were useless.
Her throat bulged. Bones were shattered from within her body. Skin was ripping lengthwise from the pressure of the invasion. Her torso from her chest to between her legs was eaten through instantly. Her guts slopped out from her vagina in a hot mess. Snakes were audibly noshing on her insides.
Candy was horrified at the wet spaghetti sound of devouring. "ZOEY!"
12 gauge, Beretta, M-16, and grenade turned the scene into a cavalcade of dust and snake splatter.
Bruce knew their time was limited if they were going to survive. "We have to run for it. Go! Keep moving. Don't stop!"
Spiders the size of tanks and semi-trucks were skittering after them. Bats with glowing red eyes were hovering above them. A mix of vulture and reptile bird hybrids soon joined them.
