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Bigfoot Hunters (Tales of the Crypto-Hunter Book 1)

Page 30

by Rick Gualtieri


  Still, some small part of her had rebelled against the mad need to find her father. Deep down, she knew it was in her best interest to remain with the men. However, the beast’s cries had silenced all opposition in her mind. There was at least one more of them out there. Its wild bellowing had purged any rational thought while awakening a primal fear inside her. She’d turned away from them at once. Let them go forward and be slaughtered by that thing. She’d find her father, and together they’d somehow survive this nightmare.

  Setting a quick pace, she tried to keep from outright running. The gun was heavy, and it was dark. It wouldn’t do any good if she fell and broke something. She’d kept to the middle of the road, as the group had done earlier, until the dark form of the bed and breakfast loomed before her. Knowing what was waiting outside it, Kate was certain she wouldn’t be able to handle seeing the beast’s body again. She was barely holding on by a thread.

  Unfortunately, that thread was about to snap.

  Moving to the far side of the street, she quickened her steps to pass the dreadful scene. She was almost past when she heard something coming from its direction.

  “Heeeeyyyy!” a slurred voice seemed to call out.

  She stopped and shut her eyes. No! It’s just in my head.

  “Heeeyyyy ... yooouuuu,” the voice gasped again.

  Almost against her will, her eyes opened. She turned toward the small hostel and immediately wished she hadn’t, for what she saw wasn’t possible.

  The thing had risen from where the body of the monster lay and lurched in her direction. It took slow shambling steps, as if it weren’t used to its legs. One hand was pressed tightly against its body, and in the other ... Oh my God, it has a knife!

  “Stay back,” she sputtered weakly.

  It continued to shamble closer. Drawing near, she could see it better. There was enough moonlight to make out that it was covered, head to toe, in some dark ichor. She imagined some unspeakable offspring clawing its way out of the belly of the dead monster, a hideous abortion that refused to die. It was coming for her now, seeking vengeance for its slain mother.

  “Heeeellllllppp meeeeee,” it croaked, stepping to within ten feet of her,

  That did it. The frayed tatters of her sanity snapped in that instant. She turned the barrel of the shotgun toward it, now close enough to see the whites of its eyes widen in surprise. It seemed an almost human gesture to her, perhaps too human. Her finger squeezed the trigger. Fire and thunder erupted from the gun, driving her back a few steps and almost knocking the wind from her.

  Fate was far less kind to her attacker. The creature’s chest and jaw disappeared in a spray of gore. It was blown backwards by the blast, landing on the ground twitching.

  She didn’t bother sticking around to see if it got back up. Ignoring all caution, Kate ran off into the night, smoke still trailing from the shotgun.

  Chapter 33

  It was a small wonder that Kate Barrows didn’t run into anyone, or anything, else as she fled. It was probably for the best. The sound of her shot caught the attention of the many ears in the area. Had another human come across her in the dark, they might have met the same fate as Chuck. Had she run across one of the clan, perhaps things would have ended in a different, if no less bloody, way. Whether through darkness, accident, or design, she didn’t see another living thing as she ran blindly home in search of her father.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Derek and the two remaining members of his team were still down the side street where they’d found the female’s corpse. The sound of the shotgun blast stopped them dead in their tracks. Unfortunately, the buildings around them played havoc with the acoustics. It took them several moments to realize that the shot had issued from the direction they’d come from. After that, it didn’t take much consideration to conclude it had come from Kate.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Danni had been resting against a tree about halfway back from the Barrows’ place when she heard the shot. She’d been pushing herself hard and was finally reaching her limit. When the blast sounded, though, she felt something she hadn’t in several hours ... hope. Someone was out there, and they were fighting back. It might even be her brother. It was enough to get her moving again.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  “It’s about time,” Harrison muttered. After fleeing the scene of the two battling monsters, he’d holed up in a tiny crawlspace beneath the first house he found. It was a tight fit, far too narrow for one of those things to manage. They’d have to tear the whole damn building apart to get to him, albeit he wasn’t entirely doubtful of their ability to do so. Fortunately, nothing had tried to get at him. Soon after, tired and scared, he’d dozed off in the confined space. He didn’t realize he had slept through a previous volley of gunfire, as well as the commotion made from the Clemons’ house blowing up.

  Now that he was roused, though, he decided to chance it. If Derek and the others were armed, then that’s who he wanted to be with.

  He crawled out, looked around, then started back in the direction of Main Street.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  The Alpha had been ready to scream his fury into the night again when he heard the noise. He refused to believe that the two-legged thing had escaped after the outcast had dared challenge him. He’d dispatched her with raw, brute savagery, being far larger and stronger than the outcast bitch. She was a fool to attack him and had been dealt with accordingly. Before dying, though, she had inflicted several minor, if annoying, wounds on him.

  The two-legged thing had run off during the battle. When it was over, the Alpha pursued, but his pace was lessened by his injuries. Then, much to his surprise, he’d lost the stupid thing’s scent. Little by little, the disease was taking its toll on the mighty creature. Thick, pus-like mucus had started to clog up his nasal passages. More of it was building up in his eyes, blurring his vision.

  He’d howled in rage when he realized he couldn’t locate the two-legged thing. Afterwards, he had taken out his frustration on the nearest of their dwellings. One entire wall of the Bonanza Creek Post Office had already been demolished, although he did not know it was called that. The building was groaning from the strain of his repeated attacks and wouldn’t last much longer. Before he could topple it, though, a new sound filled the air. It was loud, like the bellow of some great beast.

  Had his brain been in a less advanced state of decay, he would have remembered the two-legged things’ fire sticks and the lessons of his ancestors, but he was beyond that now. He heard the sound through his semi-clogged ears and came to the only conclusion the rage would allow ... it was the cry of another challenger. It, too, would be killed. It, too, would scream.

  Chapter 34

  The hunters became the hunted. They just didn’t know it yet. It wasn’t that they weren’t being cautious, far from it. They’d simply been spotted first.

  When the attack came, it came quickly and without warning. The Alpha’s senses, though dulled by the disease, were still superior to any of the men whom it spied as it came looking for the source of the challenge.

  Though it had long abandoned any notions of purposeful stealth, it still moved with a natural grace that belied its size. Had it bellowed its fury at the men, they would have turned and cut it down easily, though it didn’t know this. For whatever reason – whether the very last vestiges of instinct remaining in its dying neurons or a total focus on the killing to come – it remained silent.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  The two-legged things were moving away from him. Perhaps they were fleeing. It didn’t matter. What did, was that their backs were to him. Soon, the only thing that would matter would be their dying screams and the hot wash of their blood as the Alpha drank it in great slurps. Foamy drool dripped from his lips in anticipation.

  He closed to within ten yards, then could control himself no longer. He put on a burst of speed as the rage boiled over, screaming a cry of victory.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Derek thought perhaps a truck
had hit them, some crazed survivor of this doomed town making a run for it. As he flew through the air, though, he realized there were two problems with that theory: he didn’t recall hearing an engine, and the thing that hit them had been a little too hairy to be a truck. Then gravity reasserted itself, and he hit the ground, knocking the rifle from his hands. He skidded to a halt, scraping himself in a dozen places and momentarily scattering all coherent thought to the wind.

  The creature had appeared behind them, seemingly from out of nowhere. So intent had they been on rushing to Kate’s aid that they’d acted like a bunch of rank amateurs, forgetting that the threat could come from anywhere.

  First, there had been its unearthly bellow, so loud and near it had practically rattled their teeth. Less than a second later, it was upon them, its sheer size alone allowing it to barrel them over all at once.

  It caught Derek in the back with one of its meaty fists, sending him tumbling down the street. The others had both been hit by a wide, sweeping blow from its other arm. Mitchell was flung into the side of a wrecked pickup they’d been passing, slamming into the driver’s side door before landing in an unmoving heap. The blow shattered Francis’s right arm and sent him flying. He landed badly, pain immediately flaring through his left leg as it, too, snapped.

  Though stunned, Derek was able to roll back to his feet out of instinct alone. He shook his head to clear it and saw the squatch. It was huge, over nine feet tall, and bristling with muscle. Where the other creatures had been covered in dirty brown fur, this one was distinct in its salt and pepper coloring. There was little doubt in Derek’s mind this was the alpha. It was the largest and strongest of the clan. No doubt the craftiest, too, as it had taken out his entire squad with one hit.

  It was in the act of advancing upon Francis, who was struggling weakly where he lay upon the sidewalk. He looked injured, perhaps badly. Shaken as he was, Derek wasn’t about to let the creature have his friend. He gave an inarticulate shout as he rose, catching the beast’s attention. It turned toward him, its eyes malevolent points of red in the moonlight. It bared its teeth at him and took a step forward.

  It was only then that he realized he’d dropped his rifle. He could see it lying in the road about halfway between him and the squatch. There was no way he’d be able to retrieve it before the creature was upon him. Instead, he began fumbling for the heavy sidearm he wore. Unfortunately, he was still semi-dazed, and his fingers didn’t seem to want to fully cooperate.

  Sadly, before he could free the revolver, the creature launched itself at him. Though limping slightly, it still closed the gap with frightening speed. As the great beast lunged toward him, Derek did the only sensible thing he could think of: he turned and ran.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Despite being in a world of agony, Francis saw the squatch turn toward Derek. He dimly realized that the creature had been coming for him before it’d been distracted. Despite the pain, he wouldn’t let the opportunity go to waste. His rifle strap was still around his right arm. Reaching for it with his functional hand, he gave it a tug. Pain flared in his broken appendage as he realized he was partially lying on the gun. He gritted his teeth while he shifted it out from under his body, the effort costing him greatly. Sweat stood out on his brow and tears obscured his vision as he leveled the rifle, one-handed, at the creature’s back.

  Just then, it launched itself into a loping run toward Derek. Francis steadied himself as best he could and pulled the trigger. The noise from the gunshot was nothing compared to the pain that exploded through his body from the recoil. Broken bones shifted against each other from the resulting shockwave. It was too much for him. He passed out before he got a chance to see whether the shot had hit the mark.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  It hadn’t. The bullet went wide, missing both cryptid and crypto hunter alike. However, it did serve to catch both of their attention.

  The creature had closed on Derek with incredible speed. It had been only a few steps away from reaching him when the shot was fired. It stopped and raised its hands to its head with a piteous mewl of pain. Derek turned, saw this, and at first thought the shot had hit home. Unfortunately, though, the creature didn’t go down. It just held its hands to its ears for a moment while it shook its head, sending drool and snot flying.

  Derek used the distraction to free his handgun. As he unholstered it, the squatch took another lumbering step toward him. Simultaneously, he brought the gun up and shuffled a few steps backward.

  Just as he squeezed the trigger, his leg struck something. Losing his balance, he fell – the shot going over the creature’s head.

  Derek landed on his ass with an “Oof!” Despite the impending threat, he glanced at what he’d tripped over ... his eyes opening wide once realization hit. Though the body was covered in blood and its upper half in ruins, he could see just enough to know it was his tracker. “Chuck! Jesus Christ!” he exhaled, despite it being a particularly poor time for even the simplest expression of grief. He looked up, again raising the weapon, and saw at once his distraction would be a costly one.

  As he futilely tried to line up a kill shot, one of the creature’s enormous hands closed over his. Its fist squeezed shut, and Derek screamed in pain. It had never even been a contest. The bones in his right hand might as well have been made of paper, as far as the beast’s strength was concerned. It was crushed into pulp.

  Even so, whether through force of will or pressure from the squatch’s grip, his index finger somehow managed to squeeze the trigger.

  The heavy caliber bullet flew from the barrel and slammed into the creature’s shoulder. A spray of blood washed over Derek as the alpha screamed. It let go of him and the gun tumbled out of his now useless fingers.

  The pain was incredible. Darkness played at the edge of his vision, causing him to bite down onto his tongue to keep from passing out. As much as he might have welcomed it, he knew it would be a really bad idea to let unconsciousness take him.

  The bullet would have blown a man’s arm most of the way off, but Derek was doubtful he’d done much more than piss off the already enraged beast. He needed to put some distance between them, and quickly, too.

  He scanned the street, looking for something he could use to his advantage. He saw the ruined remains of the van a couple dozen yards away. That was no good. Even if he could wedge himself in the back, the squatch would most likely just finish the job of crushing it. Then his eyes glanced toward the bed and breakfast. It was right across the street, its front door wide open.

  Beggars can’t be choosers. Cradling his broken hand against his body, he used his good arm to scramble back to his feet. There was a moment when his eyes again locked with the creature’s, and then he was off, running as quickly as his legs could carry him.

  Behind him, the squatch’s cries changed pitch. Gone was the pain and in its place pure hatred. Bounding up the stairs to the dark B&B, Derek silently hoped someone had left a spare howitzer lying about. He was beginning to doubt that anything less would stop the beast.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Harrison emerged from an alleyway, close to where he’d earlier gotten clobbered. He turned toward the main road and immediately saw the two men lying on the ground. Taking a quick look around and not spying any of the creatures, he ran over to them.

  The first was Mitchell. Harrison rolled him over and saw that the side of his face was covered in blood. He groaned weakly when moved, but didn’t awaken. He was alive, though. That was the important thing. Harrison then went to check on the other man. If anything, Francis looked to be in even worse shape than Mitchell. Fortunately, he, too, was still breathing.

  He was debating how best to help them when he heard the sound of a gunshot. Harrison instinctively ducked, although he was vaguely aware that the chance of someone mistaking him for one of those monsters was pretty slim. He crouched low, just in case he was wrong, and debated calling out to the shooter when a second gunshot rang out. A howl of pain rose up in response, and Harris
on zeroed in on the sound. Straining his eyes in the darkness, he saw it. One of the creatures was standing further down the street, its size and shape unmistakable. From the look of things, it might’ve even been the same one that had chased him earlier.

 

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