Frost’s heart ached with each man’s death, some deep dark part of her thankful that she wouldn’t have to face their families afterwards. It was the same part of her that felt a surge of hope each time the horde of lizards slowed to fight over the most recently killed prey.
She fired several rounds into a group of lizards closing in from the left. She’d lost her rifle when she struck her head, and now—click, click, click—the handgun ran dry. She holstered the weapon, focusing on running instead.
“Oh my God,” Meeks shouted. “He’s coming! He’s coming!”
She turned, knowing exactly who the ‘he’ was. She wished she’d never seen him. Those eyes. Familiar but not. The man closed in, slipping past the lizards barbequing Silver. Another spear was in the man’s hand.
And then it wasn’t.
Meeks turned around to fire, got off one wild shot and then clutched his gut as the spear pierced it.
He twisted and fell to his knees, then glanced back at Frost, desperation in his eyes. “If you get home...all the way home...”
He never got to finish. Another spear punched through his back. A mortal wound. The impact knocked him onto his side, his lifeless eyes staring up at the sky. But this time, Frost couldn’t continue on. She had no idea whether the man hunting them would be satiated with the kill or if he was set on murdering them all. So she decided to stand her ground.
Her hand went for her gun, when she remembered it had no ammunition.
The man leapt over a boulder, twenty feet away and closing. She watched as a fresh spear appeared in his hand. But it wasn’t magic. A bag hung from his waist, full of foot-long white rods. When he lifted one, it quickly extended in both directions, forming a double-pointed javelin.
She lunged for Meeks’s weapon, an M-16, but it was strapped around his shoulders and clutched in a death grip.
The man leapt at her, thrusting out his spear.
Moving quickly, Frost reacted without thinking, clutching the spear buried in Meeks’s gut, pulling it out and parrying the blow. She jumped back, holding the weapon in front of her.
The man stopped, momentarily surprised. But then he grinned.
His teeth were a rotted mess. Up close, she could smell his rank perfume of feces, blood and ash. The muscles beneath his deeply tanned skin twitched with energy. But he just waited.
For what?
Then it happened. The spear in Frost’s hands shrank down to a foot-long staff. It had the weight of a police baton, which she could wield with some skill, but it was no match for the spear now being raised over the man’s head.
Out of options, Frost did the only thing she could think of, shouting, “Griffin Butler, don’t you dare!”
16
Crouched in the woods behind Memorial Park, Griffin took in the scene. The park was full of the creatures, more than they could ever possibly hope to get past, sneaking, shooting or otherwise.
“We’re screwed,” Radar said.
Griffin’s instinct was to offer a positive comeback. Some glimmer of hope. That’s what heroes did. But he had nothing. They were seriously fucked.
“What should we do?” Avalon asked.
Griffin ran through a hundred possible scenarios and strategies, but he was at a loss, in part because they were so outnumbered, but also because he knew nothing about these creatures—what kind of distraction would capture their attention, what they were afraid of, nothing. And it wouldn’t be long before they were discovered again. A lull in the attack had let them go deeper into the woods and circle around the park, but the things were everywhere. Many were content to simply set fire to random objects, munching on the ash, but some had a definite taste for the oilier ash that came from cooking living things. As a result, the thickest number of creatures was around the sheriff’s station, from which a near continuous boom of gunfire erupted. The building was brick, and solid, standing up to the creatures’ assaults, but portions of it were smoldering.
“We wait,” he said.
“For what?” Radar asked.
“For Winslow.”
“What if they didn’t make it?” Lisa asked. “The could be dead already.”
“We don’t have a choice,” Griffin said. “Just keep your eyes open for trouble, but only shoot if you have to. The moment those things know we’re here...” He didn’t need to finish. The result of them being discovered was apparent.
Griffin tried his radio again. “Cash, can you hear me? Cash?”
Nothing.
Damnit.
Griffin had long ago learned how to be patient. As a Ranger, he would sometimes have to wait for weeks for a target to present itself. But he was out of practice, and with people’s lives in the balance, many of them his friends, he found himself fighting to remain still. If not for Avalon, Radar and Lisa being under his care, he’d have already acted.
And probably died, he thought.
“Cash,” he spoke into the radio again. “Cash!”
A gunshot rang out, but this one didn’t come from the station. It was Lisa. She fired again and again. Griffin stood quickly and found a dead lizard, easily twelve feet long, just a few feet behind Lisa. Radar put his hand on the gun and Lisa held her fire.
She turned to Griffin, tears in her eyes. “Sorry. It just snuck up and—”
He shook his head. “You did the right thing.”
But they were still in trouble. The gunfire had drawn the attention of the nearest lizards, all thirty of them. Griffin was about to order them all into the woods. They might stand a chance there. But the growl of some new monster made him—and the attacking lizards—pause.
“What the hell is—”
With a throaty rumble that shook Griffin’s chest, Quentin Miller’s lime green monster truck exploded into the park, bounding up and over the curb from Soucey’s parking lot. It came down hard, bouncing atop and crushing the nearest lizard. But it didn’t just crush the lizard. The large, spinning wheels shredded the beast, flinging a rainbow of meat. When the tire reached the creature’s head, it burst, mixing whatever chemicals it contained in its neck. Flames burst out and ignited the driver’s side tire.
The truck sped into the middle of the park, tearing into the reptilian throng. Jennifer sat behind the wheel, a wicked smile on her face. Winslow sat in the passenger’s seat, mortified. While this was no doubt Winslow’s big idea, Griffin was glad Jennifer had gone along. Winslow was the town’s most notorious Sunday driver, forming lines behind him whenever he drove. Jennifer, on the other hand, drove with the confident assurance of someone trained to do so.
Despite the truck’s size and volume, the lizards didn’t flee. Instead, they charged, responding to the vehicle like it was wounded prey. Some leapt at it. Some attempted to scorch the tires. The result of every attack was the same—a spray of red guts and a burst of fiery death. As more of the creatures joined the assault and all four tires were set aflame, Jennifer cranked the wheels and hit the gas. The giant truck began spinning in circles, doing donuts in the slick, burning flesh of an ever-growing number of dead.
When Griffin finally managed to tear his eyes away from the gruesome scene, he looked at the kids and saw three smiles. He realized that he was smiling, too. Radar noted Griffin’s attention and said, “So awesome.”
Griffin agreed. It was awesome. “But it’s time for us to move.”
The smiles disappeared. “Stay close. Stay quiet.” With that, Griffin started out across the park, heading for the police station.
17
The savage version of Griffin Butler staggered back as though slapped hard in the face. Frost was relieved by his distraction, but also disconcerted by his identity. This is Griffin? It didn’t seem possible that the man she knew could become this—a brutal murdering...cannibal. She hadn’t seen him eat another person, but what other reason could he have for hunting them?
“You know me, don’t you?” she asked, hoping to keep the man confused. She slowly stepped back, running her fingers over the bato
n, hoping to find a way to return it to its former, deadlier shape. She didn’t know if she could kill this world’s Griffin, but she wasn’t about to let him kill her.
“My name is Helena,” she said, but maybe this world’s Griffin didn’t know her. “I work with Becky. Becky Rule.”
The man’s muscles went slack.
“I’m a friend of Jess,” she said, pushing further.
“Jess,” he whispered. His voice was scratchy and raw.
“Your wife, yes.”
He slowly tensed. “Dead.”
Frost was about to explain how she knew about Jess’s bout with cancer, but she didn’t get the chance.
“Murdered!” Griffin said.
Murdered?
“Griffin,” Dodge said. He stood at a distance. “Do you know me?”
Griffin’s eyes snapped up. Narrowed. “Pastor...” His eyes traveled downward and stopped at the object clutched in Dodge’s hand—the metal safe. He gasped and stumbled back. “No!” He pointed his spear at Dodge. “I warned you. I warned you all.” He turned back to Frost. “I know Frost. You’re not her.”
“Look at me, Griff,” she said. “It’s me!”
“No,” he said. “You defended him.” He thrust the spear toward Dodge again. “I killed you before. I’ll do it again!”
With that, Griffin hauled back the spear and flung it at Dodge. With a yelp, Dodge flinched back and raised the safe. The spear struck and punctured the metal skin.
The savage Griffin dug into his reptile-skin pack, no doubt for a fresh spear. Without thought, Frost took action. She swung hard with the baton, striking the inside of Griffin’s leg. He shouted in pain and dropped to one knee.
A spear appeared in his hand.
Frost clubbed the man’s head. When he pitched forward, she grasped the lizard skin hanging over his body and yanked it up over his head like a hockey fighting pro. With her adversary dazed and blinded, she struck again, hard. He fell flat and dropped the spear.
“Sheriff!” Dodge shouted. “They’re coming!”
Finished consuming their fallen comrades, the lizards were once again focused on the pair. She slipped the baton into her belt, took hold of the lizard skin and yanked. The man fought, but was too dazed to hold on.
She pulled the black and orange cloak away from Griffin. He reached for it, screaming, “No!”
This was the confirmation Frost needed. The lizards were stupid, and this skin was enough to protect the wearer from their interest.
She ran, cloak in hand, leaving this world’s Griffin behind. Dodge waited for her, hurrying her forward with an extended hand. Then his eyes went wide.
“Frost!” Griffin shouted.
She glanced back as the man took aim with a spear. His arm came forward, but the throw never completed. A lizard lunged up and caught his throwing arm. It was immediately engulfed in flame. Griffin screamed in pain, but drew a knife from his belt and stabbed the creature’s skull. He shook the creature free, threw Frost a final, hate-filled glance and broke to his right. While some of the lizards headed after him, the rest continued forward, toward Frost and Dodge.
Frost glanced to the town border. Even if they made it back to their own world, what then? Even if they made it to the car, the monsters would just keep coming, and she couldn’t very well lead them to town...if they hadn’t already found their way there. With so much to burn inside the town line, she didn’t see how the creatures could not be drawn to it.
“Let’s go!” Dodge said.
Frost shook her head. “No, get down!” She shoved him down and threw the cloak over them both. Peering out through a hole, she watched the pursuing lizards slow, and then stop. They did a double take, glancing between the now concealed pair, and the fleeing Griffin. They might be stupid, but they didn’t take long to make decisions. The group turned and headed after Griffin, their flicking tongues no doubt tasting the scent of the man’s smoldering forearm.
“Give me your weapon,” Frost said, taking the M-16 from Dodge’s shoulder. “Stay low and move together.” They turned around awkwardly, stood and shambled off toward town. When they arrived at the top of the incline leading back to the town border, they paused.
When they’d left town, Frost had been so focused on finding Jillian that she hadn’t really looked back. Now that she did, the truth of this world’s Refuge was clear to see. “It’s a crater.”
“This Refuge was destroyed?” Dodge asked.
“I don’t think so. The crater is a perfect fit.” Frost turned to him, looking at Dodge’s dimly lit face. “I think whatever happened to our Refuge happened here, too. Except that, for whatever reason—maybe those lizards—people were outside town when it happened. Of course, that’s just a guess and it doesn’t really matter, does it?”
Dodge lifted the document safe, which now had a hole in it. “It might.”
18
Cash spotted Griffin and the others through the station’s side window. They were crouched low to the ground and moving quickly, but there was no way they were going to make it to the station without being noticed. “He’s crazy.”
Huck, standing beside him, gave a whistle. “That boy sure has a set. Gotta give ’im that much.”
Motion below the open window caused Cash to spring into action. He twisted the barrel of his shotgun down and pulled the trigger without looking. A lizard twitched and fell back, half its face removed.
Cash had killed nearly a dozen of the things outside the window. The brick building was defensible and holding up against the flames, but the bodies were piling up. Soon, the creatures would be able to run right up the dead and lunge inside. And the situation was the same at the other windows, each manned by members of the various defense teams. The front doors, now sheets of plywood, were the real problem. They couldn’t see the burn marks through the quarter inch ply yet, but the wood was hot. Wouldn’t be long before holes emerged and smoke filled the station. Lizards would follow. It was only a matter of time before they were all cooked.
And here Griffin was, trying to get inside the oven with them.
At least he’s loyal, Cash thought. Can’t say the same for everyone in this town.
With a break in the assault thanks to the arrival of Quentin’s green monster truck, operated by a woman he didn’t recognize, Cash leaned out the window and shouted, “Back door!”
Griffin gave a nod and headed for the door.
But they weren’t going to make it. They’d been spotted. A single, massive lizard was barreling toward them, its legs splayed wide, sweeping over the grass with each frenzied step. And at this range, Cash’s shotgun was useless. The best he could do was warn them. “Griffin! Incoming!”
The former military man reacted like he was still on active duty, rolling forward into a crouch, sweeping his weapon around and squeezing off three rounds, each finding its mark.
The attack gained the attention of five more creatures who had yet to join the assault on the monster truck, which was now slick with burning guts. As they charged, Griffin stood and ordered the others to run, which they did.
“Get that back door open,” Cash said to Huck, and the old man hobbled away quickly. When Huck revealed he’d been left in charge, Cash had taken the weight off the man’s shoulders and began barking orders. Perhaps because he was well known in town, or perhaps because he’d been working closely with Frost and Griffin, no one had questioned his authority.
Griffin was a sight to behold as he calmly stood his ground. With steady skill, he fired at the approaching mass of creatures, which now numbered ten. One by one, the lizards fell and slid to a stop in the grass. By the time the creatures closed in, their numbers had shrunk back down to four.
Unfortunately, that was the precise moment Griffin’s assault rifle ran out of ammunition. But he just calmly discarded the weapon and dove away from a lunging creature. When he came back up, his M9 handgun was out and aimed. Two quick shots into one creature’s neck created an explosion that engulfed and
set aflame a neighboring lizard. Griffin turned to fire at the two remaining attackers, but one of them leapt up and caught his arm in its mouth.
Cash flinched, expected a geyser of fire to melt Griffin’s arm, but no sooner had the creature latched on than the man had produced a knife and stabbed the beast through its skull. The thing flailed and let go, just as the final monster leapt up, mouth agape and ready to chomp down on Griffin’s head.
Griffin saw the attack coming. But he didn’t leap aside.
He leapt forward.
At the creature.
They were nearly equals in size, if you didn’t count the thing’s two, five-foot-long tails. Deflecting the lizard’s head upwards, Griffin didn’t have to worry about being bitten or being set on fire, but the creature locked onto his shoulders, digging its talons into his flesh.
With a shout of pain and anger, Griffin stabbed the creature’s gut over and over, until the fight went out of the thing. He shoved it away, bleeding from his shoulders, but covered in the monster’s blood. He looked positively savage. But he had gotten the job done, and he raced toward the back door.
Cash stepped away from the window, ordered someone to guard it and headed toward the back hall. He arrived just as Griffin barreled through, stinking of gore. The men guarding the solid metal door slammed it back in place and locked it down. Griffin moved to the kids first. “Everyone okay?”
“Are you okay?” Radar replied.
“Dad!” Avalon peeled back Griffin’s shirt, revealing rows of small, bleeding puncture wounds. “You’re hurt!”
Griffin seemed to notice the wounds for the first time, cringing for a moment.
“We need to take care of this,” Avalon said.
Griffin shook his head and closed his shirt. “Later.” He turned to Cash.
“What’s the—”
“The truck is on fire!” someone shouted from the front room.
Griffin followed Cash to the station’s main office. The place was a wreck. People were trampling about, defending the building from the windows, but paying no head to what was around them. All the work he and Frost had put in to getting the place in order had been undone.
Refuge Book 4 - Ashes and Dust Page 7
