by Edward Crae
Drew happily gulped down a mouthful. “Where could they be coming from?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Dan said. “Maybe the DNR office in the state forest.”
He glanced over to the sliding glass doors, hoping that the barricade that blocked the covered area of the deck would hold. The railings had been covered and secured, making them about ten feet tall and smooth on the outside. Only a good climber or jumper would be able to get over the top.
Amid the groaning and banging, the low hiss was heard again. It was a disturbing and foreboding sound that sent chills up Dan’s spine. He pictured a shit ton of things in his head; alien queen, giant winter worm, even a dragon.
“It’s not a dragon,” Dan said out loud. Drew glanced at him for a second, gritting his teeth but saying nothing.
Glass broke outside the front door, and Dan knew the screen door had been ripped from its hinges. Something—or a group of somethings—really wanted to get inside. Thankfully the front door was thick wood and steel. But, like most houses, the walls weren’t. Siding, insulation, and drywall were all that stood between them and certain death.
“I don’t think it’s going to do any good sitting here waiting,” Dan said. “We should find some good spots and start shooting.”
Drew nodded, rising to a crouching position just as the window behind the couch shattered.
Cold air blew in between the boards that had been secured there, and dirty, clawed fingers began poking through. Dan pulled the couch out of the way, shoving the shotgun through the gaps. He fired, cocking the shotgun as screams of pain erupted from outside. He fired again, moving the barrel to another position. Drew joined him, and the two blindly fired into the gathering crowd outside.
A yelp broke the monotonous groaning and screaming; the same yelp that the two of them had heard during their encounter with the infected coyotes. They had returned with the infected humans.
“Fuck!” Drew shouted as a massive object slammed into the OSB. He stuck his shotgun out, pulling the trigger, hearing a yelp. “Fucking coyotes.”
The window to their right shattered, bringing in more cold air. Dan turned, rushing to the window to shoot through the gaps there. He shot and pumped repeatedly until his shotgun was empty. He stepped back and rushed to the ammo pile, slapping shell after shell into the 870 until it was full again.
And that’s when he heard the rustling from underneath.
“They’re in the crawlspace,” Dan said, wide-eyed.
As Drew continued firing outside, Dan crouched near the floor to listen. He could hear something large moving beneath the floor boards, slinking underneath the house to find a way in. The only weak spot Dan could think of was underneath the shower. He had often pictured himself falling through the floor while he was scrubbing his ass.
“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath, rushing to the bathroom.
“Where are you going, dude!?” Drew shouted.
“Hold them off,” Dan said. “There’s a weak spot in the bathroom floor.”
As Dan rushed down the hallway, he heard Drew’s repeated shots. He crept into the bathroom, going to the walk-in shower to listen. There was a scratching below, and the familiar low hiss. Dan sighed fearfully, watching the bottom edges of the shower stall for any movement in the tiles. There was already a gap between the floor and the wall that had been there for a year or so. It didn’t look any different.
But the scraping persisted, coupled with the hissing and growling, filling him with a sense of doom.
But the sound of a massive pane of glass shattering snapped him out of his terror. He rushed out, going back toward the kitchen. The sliding glass doors had been shattered, and a coyote—or what was once a coyote—stood there menacingly.
“Fuck!” Drew shouted.
The coyote-thing howled, stretching its impossibly wide, fanged mouth open to reveal its snakelike tongue. The entire beast was furless and white, like the mutant cat, and its skin glistening and quivered as if it was still changing on the inside. Dan leveled his shotgun at the creature as it poised itself to pounce over the kitchen table. He fired, hitting the creature squarely in the flank. It yelped and stumbled, but turned its red, glowing eyes on Dan.
He stood frozen as the creature glared. It turned to stalk toward him, its head lowered and dripping slime. Dan pumped his shotgun and fired again, hitting the creature in the face. It screamed and howled in rage, charging him. Dan pumped and fired again, this time hitting the creature at the same time as another blast hit it in the side.
The coyote-thing crumpled to the floor, quivering and convulsing as putrid blood poured from its shredded body.
“Jesus,” Dan exclaimed, slinking past it to what was left of the sliding glass door.
He could hear scratching sounds and yipping on the other side of the barriers. The coyote things were attempting to climb the wall. He kept his eyes on the top of the boards, hearing Drew cursing and shouting behind him. Then, a frantic scraping was followed by a claw appearing over the top of one of the boards. An ugly, mutated coyote head came over the top, its red eyes glaring and its tongue darting around menacingly as it spotted Dan.
He rushed forward, shoving his shotgun into the creature’s mouth and pulling the trigger. The head exploded in a shower of dark blood and brains, throwing the creature back into the shadows beyond. He heard its lifeless body impact the ground with a splat, and the other coyotes yipped and howled in anger, clawing their way up.
“Drew!” he shouted. “Get over here. We’ve got problems.”
Drew appeared almost instantly, and the two watched the edge of the wall, each one of them shifting their sights from side to side, never looking away. The scraping and clawing grew more furious, rising up the boards from every side. Dan’s heart was about to explode, and he could hear Drew’s heavy breathing above all else.
Thank God Drew had called him the other day. Otherwise, he would here by himself, facing certain death at the hands of… whatever the—
BAM! Drew’s shotgun sounded.
Dan snapped out of his coma, training his sights on another head that appeared. He fired, missing, and the creature growled, shooting its tongue out as it climbed over the edge. Dan pumped and fired again, blowing the beast’s tongue away. It howled and dropped to the deck, and Dan fired into its body until it lay still and bleeding.
Drew was firing at the corner, where the edge of the OSB had been partially torn away. A coyote snout poked through, opening to reveal its razor sharp, dripping fangs. Drew ran up to it, shoving his shotgun into the open maw, and blowing the head to smithereens. He stumbled back, covered in slimy blood.
The scraping and yipping stopped, and the two backed into the house in relief. “I think that was the last of them,” Drew said.
“The windows in the living room should be safe,” Dan said. “But I think something is coming up through the bathroom floor. I’ll stand guard at the bathroom door. Check the big bedroom. The windows aren’t boarded up there.”
Drew nodded, and the two raced down the hallway. Dan crouched at the bathroom door while Drew checked the bedroom windows. “Nothing out there,” he heard Drew say. “I’ll check the other windows.”
Suddenly, what little light there was went out.
“Fuck!” Dan cursed. “They cut the power!”
Drew appeared again from the bedroom. “Or the power grid just went down,” he said.
Dan pulled the bathroom door shut. “Let’s grab some boards from the mudroom and close off the bathroom,” he said.
“Wait,” Drew stopped him with a hand to his shoulder. “Whatever is down there, we need to kill it. We can’t just block it out.”
Dan thought for a moment, realizing Drew was right. This was his house, and he had to protect it. There was no way they could stay here with some fucking weird ass creature living in the crawlspace.
“You got any ideas?” Dan asked.
“Those things outside are just people,” Drew said. “Weird and
fucked up as they are, they’re not that dangerous. There aren’t that many of them. I say we sneak out the bedroom windows, hunt them all down, and then take on whatever is underneath the house.”
“Alright,” Dan nodded. “Good idea.”
Drew pumped his shotgun. “Let’s load up, nigga,”
Armed to the teeth, Dan and Drew quietly slid the bedroom windows open. The night air was cold, but the two of them were so pumped with adrenaline that they didn’t even care. The one street light was out, and the yard was shadowy. The sound of moaning and groaning echoed from the other side of the house, and smell of rotting flesh and shit came with it.
They slid out the windows feet first, slowly lowering themselves to the ground. They crouched there in the darkness, listening for anything nearby.
“Which way should we go?” Drew asked.
Dan shook his head. “I don’t know. Should we split up?”
“Fuck no,” came Drew’s answer.
“Alright,” Dan said, looking across the street. “We can cross over to Steve’s yard to get a better view. I don’t even want to think about going into the back yard.”
Drew nodded. They crept away from the house, moving parallel to the street until they found a dark place to cross. They went steadily, so as not to kick up any rocks. Behind them, the moaning of a wandering loony moving into the front yard stopped them in their tracks. They turned to look, silent and still, watching the shambling person-thing sway as it walked around the corner. Dan lifted his rifle.
“No,” Drew warned him. “Too loud. Wait until we get into position.”
“What if we forget about him?”
A sudden crashing sound jolted them, and the person-thing was suddenly pulled into the crawlspace vent by a massive, bony claw. They sat stunned; wide-eyed, and silent as the sound of crunching and hissing followed.
“Well,” Drew said. “I guess that answers that question.”
“What the fuck was that?” Dan said.
Drew shook his head. “Let’s keep moving.”
They continued across the street, keeping to the shadows. When they reached Steve’s yard, they crawled across the lawn to get a better view of the front door. There were at least a dozen person-things crowded on that side of the house, clawing and scratching at the walls, windows, and the door itself. They were dressed in regular clothes for the most part, with some of them wearing ranger uniforms.
“Oh shit,” Dan said. “I forgot about the DNR tours. Those must be the tourists. They must have been gathered the other day when the shit hit the fan.”
“Jesus, man,” Drew said. “Poor fuckers.”
“They would have gotten sick either way,” Dan said. “But it would have been somewhere else.”
“Fuck,” Drew whispered as he raised his rifle. “These sights aren’t adjusted for me. I should have sighted it days ago.”
“That’s alright,” Dan said. “We shoot pretty much the same. They should be close enough.”
He sat the .50 caliber Barrett on the ground beside him, patting it with his free hand. “We’ll save this for the big guy.”
Drew nodded, wordlessly aiming his rifle. Dan did the same, picking a stumbler that was wandering away from the rest of the pack.
“Ready,” Drew said.
“Me too,” Dan replied.
He swallowed, squeezing the trigger. Two gunshots rang out, echoing through the forest. Dan’s target dropped, and he pulled back the bolt to chamber another round and aim at his next target.
“Shit,” Drew said. “I missed.”
Dan fired again, dropping another stumbler. The group began to turn in their direction, and he could see their horrid, pale faces. Drew fired again, this time hitting his mark. Dan chambered another round, missing this time.
“Damn it,” he said, chambering and firing again.
The stumblers began running toward them, moaning and groaning as they raced across the gravel road. Dan and Drew quickly reloaded, aiming and firing again. Two more stumblers dropped, and the two grabbed their weapons and retreated further into Steve’s yard.
From Dan’s house, they heard the screeching hiss of the beast in the crawlspace. It had heard them.
“Fuck,” Dan said, strapping his rifle to his back and pulling out his shotgun. The stumblers neared, slipping and crawling their way up the slope. Dan pumped round after round into them, Drew firing his handgun in an almost full-auto speed. Blood and brains splattered the grass, and the stumblers slid down the slope as they dropped to the ground.
But still they came.
Six more remained, and the two men backed away, nearing the top of the slope where Steve’s porch sat crumbled and barren. Dan turned to hop up onto it, but a stumbler leaped forward, grabbing his ankle and pulling him back. He rolled over, shoving his shotgun into its mouth and pulling the trigger, vaporizing its head in a cloud of red gunk.
Drew stuffed his handgun in his belt, pulling out his shotgun and spraying the remaining stumblers with buckshot. They staggered back as Dan recovered and joined in. The two men fired until they were empty and breathless.
But, at last, the stumblers were finished.
They collapsed onto the concrete porch, sitting on its edge to catch their breath. The hissing grew in volume as the creature in the crawlspace sought a way out. They watched the house silently, dreading the sight of whatever would emerge.
“That was intense,” Drew said. “And fucked up.”
Dan nodded, too exhausted to speak. He reached down to grab the Barrett, laying it across his lap, anticipating the unknown creature that was about to make its appearance. Drew loaded up his rifle again, slapping five rounds into the magazine and shoving it in place.
“Ready,” he said.
There was a crash at the house, and the vent behind the flowerbed exploded outward. A pale, white, twisted figure crawled out, massive claws first. It emerged like a spider crawling through the end of a drain pipe; the long, spindly fingers anchoring themselves into the ground, pulling the rest of the creature out.
Dan raised the Barrett, peering through the scope to get a better look. The creature was hideous. Its face was split down the middle, with rows of crooked, sharp teeth lining each side. Its original mouth was still there, making the entire maw a four-part sphincter with a black barb at each corner. The snakelike tongue whipped around as it darted in and out, and the deep-set, glassy, black eyes reflected the moonlight.
But the most disturbing feature was its left arm. It was long, white, and bony. Its exaggerated fingers were nearly a foot long, and seemed to bear the bulk of its body as it crawled out on all fours. Its shriveled right arm was still human, and hung uselessly at its side, covered in the remains of a camouflaged sleeve.
“Jesus Christ,” Dan said. “It’s the armless hunter from the creek.”
“Fuck him,” Drew muttered, firing.
Dan could see the round strike the creature’s face, knocking it back and sending it in a fit of rage. Dan pulled the trigger, nearly dropping the rifle as the deafening gunshot sent the butt hard into his shoulder.
“Fuck!” he shouted, recovering and slamming another round into the chamber.
The two men jumped to their feet, rushing to opposite sides of the porch as the creature charged, screaming, across the street. It cleared the distance in the blink of an eye, leaping to the crest of the slope and landing with an unearthly howl.
Dan froze as he beheld the creature’s form. It was even more terrifying close up; still retaining its human face—though split into four flaps—and emitting a frightening chiming sound that rang like satanic jingle bells. Its human voice remained somewhat, gagging and mumbling unintelligibly.
“Oh my fucking god!” Drew exclaimed, dropping his rifle, and firing straight at the creature with his Glock.
Dan backed away as the creature thrashed, lifting his rifle to aim. When Drew’s magazine was spent, the creature turned to him to attack, and Dan fired. The creature’s back exploded open,
spraying green ooze everywhere as it screeched with rage. The satanic jingle bells increased in speed, and the babbling became more frantic and angry.
Drew reloaded, and pulled his Estwing ax from his belt. “Shoot it again!” he shouted.
Dan fired once more, hitting the beast at the base of the neck. When the creature reared back in agony, Drew charged, dropping his handgun to swing his ax with both hands. He growled in triumph as the blade chopped into the creature’s skull. It made a sickening splat as it bit into the bone.
Dan chambered and fired again, striking the mutated arm, and blowing it off. It tumbled away, rolling end over end until its fingers planted themselves into the ground and stood like a crab.
“What the fuck!?” Dan shouted.
Drew withdrew his ax, turning to chop the animated arm to pieces. The creature turned to Dan, its blackened eyes gleaming with unearthly life as it glared at him. He backed away; releasing the rifle’s magazine and reaching for another. The beast charged, and Dan leaped out of the way, landing roughly on his shoulder. He heard a popping sound as it was dislocated.
“Motherfucker!” he cried as the beast reeled about to rush him again, fangs bared.
Then, as it leaped forward, Dan closed his eyes, helpless. He was spent.
“Die, you cocksucker!” he heard Drew shout.
Dan heard the thock of the ax hitting its mark again. He opened his eyes, seeing Drew pulling it from the creature’s back. Drew reared it back again as the hunter-thing rose to its feet—its actual feet—hissing and choking. With a Viking-like scream, Drew swung one last time, chopping the ugly head from its knotted perch. The creature collapsed to the ground, trembling briefly before it was finally still. Green goo oozed out of the stump, and Dan rolled out of the way, breathless and weak.
“Ha!” Drew laughed. “Hahahahahaaaaaa!”
He looked like a madman in the moonlight, howling like a werewolf after a hard kill. Dan laughed with relief, letting his head fall back into the dirt. His heart thumped, missing a few beats as it slowed to a normal rhythm.
