Day of the Sasquatch

by Eric S. Brown

  “Quiet, kid,” Roger ordered.

  “I thought we agreed that you weren’t going to call me that anymore, Deputy,” Robert whispered angrily.

  Before Roger could reply, a Sasquatch came around the bend of the corridor, stepping out in front of them. The beast was dragging Sarah along at its side by her hair. Sarah’s body was leaving a trail of blood behind it as it slid over the floor. Roger could see that the girl was dead. There was nothing left of her face except crunched-inward bone and gore. His finger on the trigger of his AK-47 hesitated for a fraction of a second as he thought about the attention the sound of gunfire was likely going to draw if there were more of the beasts already inside the school.

  Robert didn’t hesitate. His Ak-47 swept upwards as his finger tightened on its trigger. Bullets dug into the Sasquatch’s flesh, cutting a ragged path from the creature’s groin to the bottom of its neck. The Sasquatch squealed, swinging Sarah’s corpse up and launching at Robert like a weapon. Her body took several rounds as Robert kept firing before it slammed into him, knocking him to the floor of the corridor. Robert shoved Sarah’s dead weight off of him, trying to get to his feet as Roger joined the fight.

  Taking careful aim at the Sasquatch’s forehead, Roger fired a five-round burst that sent the creature back to whatever hell it had come from. The Sasquatch, dead on its feet, careened into the lockers that lined the wall of the corridor crashing into them before sliding onto the floor. A pool of red grew and spread outward around its shattered skull.

  From outside the school, the two of them heard the pounding beat of bass chords blaring from the speaker system of the truck they had gotten from the weirdo prepper Jenkins. Roger recognized the song that was playing. He thought it was titled All the People that Died or something like that. Roger really wasn’t sure, but he hoped it wasn’t an omen for what was about to happen to them.

  “They’re here!” Robert screamed and whirled around to sprint away, racing towards the school’s front door. Roger followed after him. They needed to be there to help cover the others as they tried to get into the building.

  Even before they reached the door, Jerry’s truck was visible through its glass in the parking lot outside. The M2 Browning in the truck’s rear was making short work of the forward ranks of the Sasquatch chasing it but still those behind them came onward into the weapon’s stream of death. The truck skidded across the parking lot, swinging sideways to come to a stop just outside the school’s door as Roger and Robert reached it. They burst outside adding the fire of their AK-47 to the Browning’s final shots before the heavy machine gun clicked empty and fell silent.

  “That’s it!” Simon shouted over the music. “I’m out!”

  Simon jumped out of the truck’s bed as Jerry and Carolina exited its cab. The beasts were coming in fast and without the Browning, there was nothing to keep them at bay. Simon, Jerry, and Carolina ran up the steps leading to the school’s door as Robert and Roger continued to fire their AK-47s into the mass of approaching monsters. Robert still hadn’t gotten the hang of headshots. He just wasn’t that good at killing. He didn’t even bother to try to aim. There were so many of the beasts that he figured as long as he kept firing, he was going to hit some of them. Roger’s fire was more controlled. The deputy aimed each burst, making it count. His rifle chattered as he took off the top of another Sasquatch’s skull. The beast dropped, tripping up those directly behind it. But their combined efforts were like trying to plug a hole in a ruptured dam with the tip of one’s finger.

  Jerry slowed, shoving Carolina into the school ahead of him, as he turned to brace the butt of the Barrett he was carrying to his shoulder. The high-powered rifle was a semi-automatic .50 caliber. It cracked as Jerry took his first shot. The bullet ravaged one of the lead Sasquatch, tearing a jagged hole clear through the beast’s chest. Jerry took several more shots as Simon passed him, entering the school. Jerry knew it was time to run. Robert and Roger had already stopped shooting and were heading into the school themselves. Jerry followed them in, yanking the door shut after him. Roger was there to chain the door, but Jerry knew the chain wouldn’t buy them more than a couple of seconds at best. The Sasquatch were going to come straight the door in a flood of muscle and primal fury.

  Reloading his Barrett as he and Roger scrambled to catch up to the others, Jerry realized that if any of them were going to make it out of the school alive to detonate the charges that had been set in it, someone had to make a stand to slow the Sasquatch up.

  “Roger! Give Simon your weapon and tell him to hold up!” Jerry ordered.

  “It won’t work,” Roger said as if he knew what he was planning. “There are too many of those things.”

  “We’ll make it work,” Jerry snapped as Roger handed off his AK-47 to Simon. Simon had paused, hearing Jerry shout his name, and took the weapon from Roger readily.

  “Now run!” Simon shoved Roger onward after Robert and Carolina. Only Carolina wasn’t running anymore either. She came marching back to join him and Jerry, her automatic shotgun held ready in her hands.

  “You’re right, Sheriff,” Carolina yelled. “We’ll make it work together!”

  At that moment, the Sasquatch came crashing through the chained-up door and spilled into the corridor with them.

  ****

  A nine-foot-tall monster, all muscle and hair, came charging directly at Jerry. He didn’t so much as flinch. He supposed he was getting used to the creatures. His finger flicked gently on the trigger of his Barrett. The rifle kicked against him as the monster’s exploded and its body collapsed to skid along the floor of the corridor. Jerry shifted his aim targeting another of the Sasquatch.

  Simon’s AK-47 chattered as he poured a barrage of automatic rounds into the Sasquatch that were coming through the school’s shattered doorway. Blood flew as the bullets all struck flesh. The creatures were so tightly packed in the doorway and the corridor just inside of it that it was impossible to miss them.

  Carolina held her fire, waiting one of the others to empty their magazine and be forced to reload. The goal wasn’t to stop the monsters. There was no chance of that. Their aim was simply to slow the beasts enough to give Robert and Roger time to get clear of the building. Someone had to survive to detonate the charges that had been placed throughout the school. She didn’t have to wait long. Carolina saw Jerry take a step in retreat, popping the spent magazine of his rifle. She moved forward, unleashing the power of her automatic shotgun in a thunderous chorus of blasts that ripped the upper bodies of two of the Sasquatch to bits. Their blood splattered over the walls and floor of the corridor as well as the creatures near them.

  “Jerry!” she yelled, hoping the sheriff was ready to take her place on the line again. He was but Jerry didn’t move forward to her; she ran back to his position, Simon following her, reloading as he came. Again, Jerry started slaughtering the beasts one at a time with .50 caliber rounds that blew holes in their hulking, thickly muscled bodies.

  “Fire in the hole!” Simon suddenly shouted, pulling the pin from a grenade and tossing it into the mass of Sasquatch. The grenade exploded, covering the beasts with white phosphorus fire. The beast packed together by their numbers and the tightness of the corridor shrieked and wailed, tearing at each other as they fought to escape the flames that swept over them. Hair and flesh burned, melting away from their bodies. The sizzle of cooking fat could be heard over the roaring of the creatures. Simon’s move had bought them time to get into position and reloaded to face the Sasquatch all over again as several of the beasts began to make it through the flames and over the corpses of their burning brethren.

  The head of a Sasquatch disintegrated into red mist as Jerry’s Barrett boomed. Without turning towards her, he yelled, “Go on, girl! Get out of here! There’s still time!”

  Carolina ignored him as her automatic shotgun spat a three-round burst. Two of the rounds hammered into the chest of Sasquatch and the third struck the beast next to it.

  One of the Sasquatch
roared a battle cry and flung itself through the air at Simon. The beast came down right beside him, the tile of the corridor’s floor cracking under its weight. A backhanded blow from the monster knocked Simon into a dust-covered trophy case. Its glass broke as Simon crashed into it. Shards of it slashed at his face, arms, and hands. He had lost his hold on his AK-47 and the beast smashed the weapon to bits beneath one of its heavy feet. Simon was trying to get up from where he lay bleeding, but the Sasquatch didn’t give him a chance. Its foot lashed out to come down on his stomach crushing that portion of his body flat against the floor. Simon’s body split open like a rotten melon, his guts exploding outward from his sides like blood-smeared snakes.

  “Simon!” Jerry cried out.

  “He’s dead!” Carolina snapped. “Keep your attention on the—”

  Before she could finish what she was trying to say, a Sasquatch came charging out of a side hallway to her left and plowed into her with its shoulder. The blow lifted Carolina from her feet and flung her several feet to bounce off the wall opposite her.

  Jerry knew the girl was dead before her body even hit the floor. The Sasquatch that killed her was behind his position, and there were dozens of the monsters still coming at him through the burning corpses that Simon’s grenade had left packing the corridor. The smoke in the corridor was getting so thick that it burnt Jerry’s eyes and he was beginning to have trouble breathing. He wasn’t about to make a run for it though. That kind of cowardice just wasn’t a part of who he was. Jerry had spent the bulk of his life as first a soldier and then a law enforcement officer. It was his job to give the others the time they needed make it out, and he was damn well going to do just that.

  His Barrett was empty and Jerry didn’t have any more magazines for the weapon. Flipping it about to use the gun like a baseball bat, he swung it in a mighty arc with all his strength at the first of the Sasquatch to make it within reach of him. The gun broke apart as it made contact with the Sasquatch’s jaw. Teeth flew from the creature’s mouth in a splash of red. The blow staggered the Sasquatch and those behind it shoved from their path to get at him.

  Jerry’s screams echoed in the corridor as the Sasquatch tore him apart, continuing to fight over the best bits of his body as they feasted on his flesh.

  ****

  Roger and Robert burst through the school’s rear door to where the deputy’s patrol car sat still running. Their legs pumped under them and their breath came in ragged gasps as they raced for the car. Robert got there first, taking the driver’s seat. He barely gave Roger a chance to make it into the passenger seat before he floored the gas and the car streaked away from the school. The sound of gunfire coming from within the building had fallen silent. Robert knew the others were dead.

  “Do it!” he screamed at Roger though the deputy was sitting right next to him.

  Roger stared at the remote detonator, his finger on its switch. He hesitated only long enough to whisper a quick prayer for their lost friends and then mashed the switch inward with his thumb.

  The patrol car had cleared the rear parking area of the old school and was halfway up the hill to the main road as the building blew behind it. There was one massive explosion that gutted the building with fire and sent shards of its roof sprawling outward and then several other, smaller blasts that followed in its wake. Robert saw it all in the patrol car’s rearview mirror. He didn’t let off on the gas though. Robert kept the pedal floored as the car bounced onto the main road above the burning remains of the old school. He had no intention of stopping either until they were completely out of town and on the interstate beyond its borders.

  ****

  Five years had passed since that day. Despite all the evidence in Canton and the cleanup that the military was called in to do, the government was able to cover up what truly happened there. Roger had moved to the city and never returned to the town. He heard that Robert had died of a drug overdose after his latest Sasquatch horror novel had hit #1 on the New York Times bestseller list. Roger didn’t think any less of the kid for it. He was pretty drunk these days himself. Roger worked as a cart pusher for a grocery store near his apartment building during the days and drank himself into a stupor every night. Even so, the nightmares about what had taken place in Canton relentlessly clawed at his soul. Roger promised himself he would go back someday and try to find closure, but that day wouldn’t be today. He ground out his cigarette in the ashtray next to his bed and got up, wiping at the sweat that drenched his skin from the nightmares of the evening before, to get ready for work.

  Read on for a free sample of Bigfoot War

  Author Bio

  Eric S Brown is the author of numerous book series including the Bigfoot War series, the Kaiju Apocalypse series (with Jason Cordova), the Crypto-Squad series (with Jason Brannon), the Homeworld series (With Tony Faville and Jason Cordova), the Jack Bunny Bam series, and the A Pack of Wolves series. Some of his stand alone books include War of the Worlds plus Blood Guts and Zombies, World War of the Dead, Last Stand in a Dead Land, Sasquatch Lake, Kaiju Armageddon, Megalodon, Megalodon Apocalypse, Kraken, Alien Battalion, The Last Fleet, and From the Snow They Came to name only a few. His short fiction has been published hundreds of times in the small press in beyond including markets like the Onward Drake and Black Tide Rising anthologies from Baen Books, the Grantville Gazette, the SNAFU Military horror anthology series, and Walmart World magazine. He has done the novelizations for such films as Boggy Creek: The Legend is True (Studio 3 Entertainment) and The Bloody Rage of Bigfoot (Great Lake films). The first book of his Bigfoot War series was adapted into a feature film by Origin Releasing in 2014. Werewolf Massacre at Hell’s Gate was the second of his books to be adapted into film in 2015. Major Japanese publisher, Takeshobo, recently bought the reprint rights to his Kaiju Apocalypse series (with Jason Cordova) and it is sIated for 2018 release in Japan. Ring of Fire Press will be releasing a collected edition of his Monster Society stories (set in the New York Times Best-selling world of Eric Flint’s 1632) later this year. In addition to his fiction, Eric also writes an award winning comic book news column entitled “Comics in a Flash.” Eric lives in North Carolina with his wife and two children where he continues to write tales of the hungry dead, blazing guns, and the things that lurk in the woods.

  Prologue

  The smell was terrible. Jeff stood behind his brother, Scott. The younger boy knelt, poking at what looked like a liver with the stick clutched in his hand. Other odd bits and pieces of the cow lay scattered about the field around them. Jeff was struggling not to be sick. “Stop that,” he managed to order Scott. Scott looked up at him. “Come on, bro. This is awesome!”

  Scott got to his feet. “This had to be aliens! Look at this. I doubt even a grizzly could have torn the thing apart like that.”

  Jeff felt anger welling up inside him. There was nothing cool or awesome about death. The poor cow had been literally ripped to shreds. He wondered if it had suffered or if whatever did this gave it a quick death before this pointless mutilation. Scott noticed his reaction and punched his shoulder. “You nerd. Why do you always have to spoil everything by thinking about it too much? Don’t be such a loser.”

  Jeff stared at the blood drying on the grass as Scott went back to his examination of the cow’s remains. He wished he had never followed Scott and his father out here. He didn’t need this junk. There was a math test tomorrow and he should be in his room studying for it, not babysitting Scott, but he knew his father needed him. Without him riding herd on Scott, his younger brother would be out there in the woods shadowing his father and making it impossible for him to find the animal that did this and kill it before whatever it was could attack more of their livestock.

  Another man might have called the sheriff, finding a mess like this in their pasture, but their father was a third generation farmer and the gruff, hardheaded type of man who firmly believed you dealt with things yourself. Jeff wasn’t worried about him. He remembered the time his dad hit the bottl
e too hard a few weeks after his mother died. It had taken the sheriff and four deputies to take his dad down and restrain him. Even with that many of them, it had been a fight. Jeff also knew his dad was one of the best hunters in Haywood county and that tonight, the man was stone sober and on his game.

  Scot’s head snapped up. “Do you hear that?”

  Before Jeff could ask what, he heard it too. The sound of something large that was tearing its way through the trees towards the field they stood in. A gunshot rang out amid the noises of snapping trees branches and the rustling of the brush.

  Their dad broke from the tree line running towards them. His face was pale and ashen, covered in the sweat of fear. “Run!” their father yelled at them. “Jeff, get Scott in the house now!”

  Jeff grabbed Scott by the arm, jerking him into a run for the house. He was nearly dragging the younger boy along through pure adrenaline and force of will. He didn’t look back as an animal like roar shook the night. It was so loud that it seemed to echo all across the valley. It sounded like a cross between a really ticked off bear and an angry man screaming at the top of his lungs. He could hear the sound of its footsteps, the loud thunderous impacts of its feet smashing into the ground at the end of each its long strides. Jeff’s breath came in ragged gasps as he pushed himself on, dragging Scott with him. The house was in sight now. He could see the kitchen screen door swaying slightly from the evening’s breeze where it hung partially open. The porch light still burned above it. So close, he thought. Once they were inside, they could lock the door against the terrors of the night and everything would be fine. Jeff felt Scott fighting against his hold on him. “No, Dad!” the younger boy wailed. A second gunshot cracked in the darkness behind them, followed by their father screaming obscenities in a frightened and desperate voice. This was followed by a wet, thumping noise that reminded Jeff of the noise made by a deer being hit with the hood of a speeding car. It was the last he ever heard of his father that night.