by Heath, Joel
Gretchen asked, still shaken about seeking the demon outside her window. At that moment the driver’s side window shattered throwing glass all over the interior of the car. Spencer instinctively raised his Glock to the window; his eyes fell on the demon. Spencer noticed several injuries that could only have been caused by a gun; was this the same demon they faced off against in Dunn? Spencer realized that if this very demon had been tracking them, he needed to eliminate it or it could communicate with others. He fired four shots, and the demon dislodged itself from
Spencer’s car, and returned to the sky.
“I think we should get out of here.”
Spencer suggested.
As Spencer started the engine Gretchen
lean into the back seat for a weapon. Her choices
were the M-16 or the P-90, she chose the M-16.
Spencer slammed his foot onto the gas pedal and
sped out of hiding. Reaching the open road
Gretchen rolled her window down.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Spencer asked.
“That thing is going to dog us everywhere
we go.” Gretchen shot back.
“You realize that you probably won’t kill
it?”
“They can be killed. I’m going to shoot
and hope I get a lucky hit,” Gretchen retorted as
she leaned out the window and set the demon in
her sights.
“Be careful, you fall out and I’m on my own.” Spencer yelled.
“Don’t remind me.” Gretchen racked the
weapon. The demon was following a hundred
feet behind, gliding thirty meters above the
ground. Gretchen fired several rounds at their
demonic pursuer, but most missed; the demon
didn’t even have to evade. The GTO was
swerving everywhere.
“Hold it steady.” Gretchen shouted. Spencer managed to keep his GTO going
in a relatively straight line long enough for
Gretchen to get three decent shots. One by one
the three rounds slammed into the demonic scout.
Spencer peeked into the rearview mirror, but was
unable to see their pursuer.
“Where is it? I can’t see it.” Spencer
shouted.
Gretchen squeezed off a couple more
rounds. “I can see it, and it’s getting a little too
close.”
“Hang on!” Spencer shouted as he passed
the off ramp for Sweetwater Texas, accelerating
faster and faster. Soon his GTO had passed a
hundred miles per hour and the demon was still
trailing behind the hybrid car. However it was
acting rather erratically, circling in the air and
shrieking.
“Is it doing what I think it’s doing?”
Spencer asked. Gretchen glanced around and
spotted what looked like a dust storm about a
mile to the east, and another one to the south.
They were moving together, converging like two
drops of water.
“Shit, I think it’s calling for back up.”
Gretchen shouted as she slid back into the
passenger seat and dropped the M-16 into the
back seat; it was little more than a band-aid on a
broken leg.
“What now?” Gretchen asked.
“We make a run for it?” Spencer asked.
Gretchen glanced out the rear window, then out
the driver’s side window; was it even possible or
would they be lucky to make it to the next town? Gretchen watched the two converging
hordes of demons; the south flank would be cut
off within minutes. They were forced to turn off
I-20 onto Highway 84, toward Lubbock Texas. Spencer zipped down Highway 84 at
more than a hundred and thirty miles per hour,
pushing the modified vehicle to its limits, looking
for a place that would offer a decent defensible
position. Spencer bypassed several small towns
knowing that staying would leave them totally
exposed.
Highway 84 soon intersected I-27 as it cut
through the heart of Lubbock. Spencer turned
slightly and merged on to the interstate and then
he spotted an electric sign indicating a military
presence at Covenant Medical Center on the
north side of town.
“Do you think we should?” Gretchen
asked. Spencer responded by taking the 19th
Street exit where a sign indicated their new
destination. Spencer turned and headed west. After three miles hope soared in their
hearts at the sight of a dozen military Hummers
parked in a defensive formation around the
emergency entrance to the Covenant Medical
Center surrounded by demon corpses and
dismembered human bodies; most had died
recently judging by their coloring.
A pair of soldiers emerged from within
one of the hummers and directed Spencer to stop.
One soldier stood guard while the other leaned
over to talk with Spencer through his shattered
window.
The soldier wore a combat helmet and
full combat fatigues. His dark-skinned face
conveyed concern for these civilians that just fell
into his lap. “Do either of you need any medical
attention?” the soldier inquired. His rank seemed
to suggest he held the rank of Major; his name
read Walters.
“No, but we may have been followed.”
Spencer announced. Major Walters’ look of
concern changed to terrified panic.
“Are you sure?” Major Walters asked.
Spencer said nothing. Major Walters drew his
own conclusions, and they weren’t good. “That’s a problem; we’re not going to
survive another attack without a resupply.” Major
Walters said.
“We have some supplies and arms from
an overrun convoy outside Shreveport.” Spencer
commented. “We found more before we passed through Sweetwater about two hours ago.”
Gretchen replied drawing the Major’s attention. Major Walters quickly pointed toward the
hospital. “There are two parking garages on the
other side of the hospital, pull into the west
parking garage; hide your vehicle so the demons
don’t see it. There will be a squad of marines
there to unload the supplies and then I want you
all to meet me in the main lobby.”
Spencer nodded. Major Walters stepped
away before reaching for a radio on his shoulder.
“All units, we have incoming friendlies in front
of a new wave of bad guys.” Then he escorted
the other soldier into the hospital. “Perimeter unit
Charlie, there’s a resupply heading your way.” Spencer pulled forward to the next street
and turned; passing the hospital they came to a
street that ran parallel to 19thStreet. There were
two walkways over 21stStreet, each one
connected the hospital to a different parking
garage. One looked a few years old and the other
parking garage looked much newer.
“This must be the west parking garage,”
Spencer guessed before pulling in, popping up on
the curb as he did.
Spencer turned and drove through the
parking garage. He turned onto the second level
where they were surrounded by
a half dozen
marines. Spencer parked and shut off his engine. One marine leaned his head into the
permanently open window. His combat fatigues
bore a captain’s insignia.
“Did you speak with Major Walters?” the
captain asked.
“We did, Major Walters asked us to meet
him in the main lobby,” Spencer said, “With your
resupply”. Spencer popped the trunk allowing the
four marines access to the lethal cargo before he
and Gretchen climbed out of the car.
“Where did you find this?” one of the
marines asked.
“A convoy unit went down fighting. I
took all I could, I hate to tell you there were no
survivors,” Spencer replied before he reached in
to a crate of explosives and grabbed an
ammunition can before heading into the hospital. Gretchen and the six marines arrived
several minutes later with a majority of the
trunk’s contents, leaving the sword, some food
and provisions, the P-90, a case of ammunition
and a case of explosives.
“This hall connects with another hall
which cuts through the Cardiac Center on its way
to the main lobby,” the captain said and after a
couple minutes they rounded the corner and
wounded started coming into view lined along
the total length of the wall, no, they weren’t
wounded, they were casualties, probably
dismembered in the last attack. Terrifying images
from Dunn came flooding back. Spencer started
to feel queasy, but managed to retain his
composure and push through the aisle of the
dead.
As they neared the main lobby, the sound
of gunfire made their hearts drop. Has the demon
horde finally arrived?
As Spencer, Gretchen and their Marine
escort strode into the main lobby they were met
by Major Walters.
“What’s going on?” Spencer inquired as
he approached.
“We’ve got a flier inbound, he seems to
be circling.” Major Walters replied.
“Where’s the commanding officer?” Major Walters darkly grimaced as he
pointed at a motionless form that was being
moved into the hall of dead bodies. “He was
injured in the attack this morning; he died just a
few minutes ago. I’m in command now.” Major
Walters admitted.
“In that case, I have intelligence that is
crucial to our survival. The demons are organized
into ‘hives’ and lead by a ‘queen’.”
“Kind of like a beehive?” Major Walters
asked.
“Exactly, only when you kill the queen,
her troops get really angry and that’s when her
army is vulnerable, you can kill them once she is
dead.” Spencer explained, and then let the
concept hang in the air before briefly summing it
up. “They become mortal.”
Major Walters smiled. “Tell me about this
‘hive queen’.
“The only way to kill her is to take off her
head, and to get close you need a lot of bullets to stun her.” Spencer summarized as a marine
approached.
“Sir,” the marine began. “It looks to be
retreating.
“Outside Sweetwater there must have
been thousands of the things, there’s no way it’s
retreating. It must be going to tell his buddies
where we are.” Spencer guessed.
Major Walters glanced at the marine.
“Take it out.”
The marine saluted and left while
reaching for a radio off his shoulder.
“Snipers, if you have a shot of the flier,
take it!” The marine ordered before disappearing
deeper into the hospital. As time passed, more
than three dozen shots were heard tearing
through the sky.
One of the snipers radioed back. “I’m
sorry sir, it’s out of range.”
“What about Morris?” Major Walters
asked.
“He’s dead, sir. He was killed before the
damn thing bugged out.”
Spencer looked sternly at Major Walters.
“What’s your plan, Major?”
“You said all we have to do is kill this
‘hive queen’?” Major Walters asked.
Spencer nodded. “That’s right, how many
men do you still have?”
“At last count, we had fifty,” Major
Walters replied.
“Captain Huddleston!” Major Walters
shouted over the chaos, and soon a soldier in dark
combat camouflage approached.
“Yes, sir.” Captain Huddleston saluted. “Captain, how many claymores do we
still have?” Major Walters asked
“We still have two dozen but the
detonator was destroyed last night.” Captain
Huddleston announced.
Gretchen smirked, “Captain, I think I can
help you with that.”
“You?” Captain Huddleston asked
dubiously.
“My father was an IRA trained guerilla.” Another soldier approached and
whispered something into Major Walters’ ear, the
look on his face was the look of a man who is
about to die a brutal death.
“We have incoming, ETA ten minutes.
What do you need?” Major Walters asked as the
soldier left to join the troops getting ready to
fight.
“A radio and a few things from one of the
Hummers outside, and as much time as you can
give me.” Gretchen confidently requested. “I’ll
also need every last one of your claymores
positioned between us and the demon horde.” “Captain, get on it use whoever you
need.” Major Walters directed.
Captain Huddleston grabbed a passing
marine. “Gather everybody that isn’t fighting and
set up all claymores on the southern perimeter, MOVE IT!” Captain Huddleston ordered and then racked his weapon and escorted Gretchen to one of the hummers outside where she retrieved a broken detonator, a tool kit and a soldering kit from the back of the Hummer before heading
back inside
The main lobby had been all but cleared
out except for three soldiers who were sealing the
door against intrusion before joining the fight
that was minutes away from hitting the south
perimeter like a tsunami breaking against the
shore.
Captain Huddleston reached for his radio.
“Claymore team, what’s your status?”
The transmission was a little garbled,
“In…..gress, give me….minutes.”
“Please repeat, did not copy.”
“Four min…letion.” The reply came, still
garbled.
Captain Huddleston took Gretchen to the
south side of the hospital where Spencer was
armed with an FNP-90 and a flak jacket. “What are you doing?” Gretchen asked. “They’re going to need every man
they’ve got, so I volunteered.”
“They already know about the hive
queen.” Gretchen complained.
“I know, I even gave them a detailed
description of the hive queen, but…” Spencer let
his voice trail off.
Captain Huddleston noted a concern in
Gretchen’s face that told a very peculiar story, so he distracted her with the task at hand. “Alright,
let’s get to work on that detonator.”
It was not hard for Gretchen to focus on
rebuilding the detonator.
Two dozen soldiers entered the hospital.
“The claymores have been set up.”
Captain Huddleston looked back at Gretchen.
“We’re just waiting on the detonator.”
“Give me three more minutes.” Gretchen
said as she finished prying open the radio and
started pulling wires free, twisting them together
and soldering them to the circuit board.
“Major, I see something on the street,”
one of the soldiers reported.
Another soldier reported similar movement.
Major Walters walked over to the window to see
for himself. It wasn’t long before he, too, saw the
demons approaching.
“It’s too late.” Major Walters declared
turning to Gretchen. “Is it ready or not?”
Gretchen looked up at Major Walters. “Not.” Major Walters turned back to the window
and reached for his radio. “All units, open fire.”
Major Walters ordered.
“Wait, sir.” Another soldier said and
pointed at feminine figure entered a parking lot to
the southeast. Her sword was not drawn, the
figure’s hands were up.
As she drew closer, a terrible feeling
began to grow like a dark spot in Spencer’s mind,
dark and menacing.
As the hive queen cleared the parking lot,
she stepped into the silent street and stopped. She
paused briefly before raising her voice to the
hospital’s occupants, her voice sounded like three
different voices blending together into a
frightening mixture of mismatched chords trying
to play in unison.
“You are surrounded, Mortals. My
Master’s army stands poised to take you all to
Hell. You can join us willingly or endure eternal
torment before succumbing and joining his
unholy army.” The queen said before turning and
looking at the sun, it would be down within six
hours. “You have until sunset to decide,” she said
leaving the soldiers to think on what could be
their last hours before the inevitable
dismemberment, and then walked away. Spencer stared at Major Walters, as
though waiting for him to give an order, but that
order never came.
“It looks like we have more time to fix
that detonator.” Major Walters said, breathing a
sigh of relief, but there was a great deal of
